Children of Fate
by AG.Prentice
Summary: An old Dr. Quinn reminisces about her experience when caring for a baby suffering from what we know now as Trisomy 21. Sequel to "Split Souls"
1. Foreword

_Je dédie cette histoire à ma Grand-mère bien-aimée, Régine Bideaux, qui nous a quittés le 28 février 2006. __Que son âme repose en paix._

_**This story is also dedicated to Sylvie: even though you didn't have the time, you had helped me more than you can imagine, you gave me reasons to go on with my writing. Thanks for your KITAs.**_

**Foreword**

_I've been a fervent fan of __**Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman **__ever since it was first aired in France, a little more than fifteen years ago, and like every other "first-generation" fan, I was crushed when they cancelled the show abruptly, the last episode "A New Beginning" bringing no sense of closure at all, rather looking fizzled out, with too many loose ends._

_Those loose ends I wanted to cut, so I started writing a sort of post-6th-season saga, like the one Debby K is still unfolding, only it wasn't as good, and I never got around finishing it. It was in the early 1999, and I knew nothing about the fan fictions and the way it had permitted DQ to rise from its ashes. The stories I wrote back then were never to be read by anyone but me._

_August 2000. The library in my hometown was newly equipped with brand new computers, connected to the World Wide Web. First thing I looked up was any information about DQ, and that first day I ended up reading __**I Take Thee**__… No better way to become an addict all over again. Since then I must have read almost every fanfic that had been written --I even keep my favorites on a CD-ROM--, despite the demands of life, spending countless nights when I lulled, or cried, myself to sleep reading __**A Time to Dance**__, __**After the Rain**__ or __**Time Out of Mind**__. At first I barely understood half of what I was reading. Now I can say that the fanfics have brought me much more than quite a few hours of entertainment: impressive progress in English--so says my brother, who teaches French to English pupils-- and sometimes food for thought._

_There was a time when I considered translating my stories into English, then putting them up on the Web, at least what had survived the huge crash my computer had suffered. I finally gave up on that idea: many of the story lines I followed had also been used by other writers, and I'm not one to step on somebody's toes, so I just contented myself with reading and re-reading the fanfics. That is, until a year ago…_

_I was idly leafing through the TV guide when my eyes caught the term trisomy 21. Since I didn't remember ever reading something about it, I thought maybe it would provide an interesting story. I checked, via the Forum, if anyone knew of a fanfic about the Down's Syndrome, and I was right to do this: Laulau had beaten me to it, with __**Un Noël Inoubliable**__ ('An Unforgettable Christmas'). I thought about translating it, so that everybody could read, but the text was so full with mistakes and inadequacies that I gave up on that one too. Besides the enthusiasm ;-) shown by other members when I had put up my idea on the Forum was all I needed to go ahead and write._

_At first, I was having ten ideas per minute, so much that I even considered adding sequel(s) to the original story, with Michaela's children and grandchildren as the main characters. Everything was well under way until, suddenly, as many fanfic writers are used to saying, real life got in the way. Each time things slowed down enough for me to sit before my computer, I tried to get back to work, but it was obvious I had lost the inspiration along with the momentum. It took all my stubbornness, my compatriot Sylvie's encouragement, and my friends' faith in me, to finish __**Children of Fate**__. Sylvie, I can't thank you enough for your support, the time you generously spent proof-reading and correcting what I sent you, and dispensing useful advice whenever it was needed. What, with your contribution, up to the title, I ought to name you co-author!_

_I had other reasons to want to write a story. As most DQ fans, I truly enjoy the unique relationship Mike and Sully share. But I often deplored a lack of medical challenges: Mike, the main character, IS a doctor! I don't mind the interactions between her private life and her career, quite the opposite, it makes her all the more human. This is why my favorite episodes are "Epidemic", "The Operation", "A Place to Die" or "A Time to Heal"... _

_All I hope for is that you will enjoy reading __**Children of Fate**__ as much as I enjoyed writing it._

_A.G. Prentice _


	2. Teaser

_**Disclaimer: I do not own the characters from Dr. Quinn Medicine Woman. The rights to those characters and to the show belong to the creators of the show, to CBS and to Beth Sullivan.**_

**Teaser**

A late winter sun was lazily shining upon the frost-covered meadow. Faint echoes from the bustling town nearby barely disturbed the peacefulness of the place, where an old two-story house stood among hundred-year-old oaks. The weatherworn wood of the building was dully gleaming in the weak sun; a few rotten posts and planks lay scattered where must have been the barn and corral. Had not it been for the thin wisps of smoke that came from the chimneys the place would have had looked deserted.

This was the cherished home of a very old lady. Despite the adjurations of her children to come and live with one of them, she had stubbornly refused to leave the house after the tragedies she had gone through the year before: the death of her husband and, a few months later, of two of her grandsons, both victims of that horrendous war in Europe… How could she leave? This was where her family had started and grown, where she had known her most profound joys and where she had found solace during times of hardship. Where she had lived forty-seven years... with _him_.

Seated in her customary wingback chair, she was waiting for her granddaughter to come back from town. Young Rose had moved in when her grandmother's health had started to decline, shortly after those fateful events. They had always been quite close ever since the girl's early childhood. Her cheerful nature had chased away the glum that threatened the homestead and its inhabitant.

The front door burst open, revealing a bundled form whose arms were laden with groceries. A high-pitched, female voice emerged from behind a pile of packages:

"Hey Grandma, sorry I'm late..."

"It's all right Sweetheart. I suppose you've met some friend of yours in town."

"Well, no... I went to Dad's office to ask for your pills - you're running low, and I don't want you to get sick on me!"

"I would never do that..."

"You'd better not, if you know what's good for you!"

The two women smiled knowingly, with wide and identical crooked grins.

"So, what took you so long? Was the mercantile that much busy?"

"No more than usual. But I had to wait in Dad's office for at least half an hour..."

"He had an emergency?"

"Sort of", edged the girl. "You know that Amelia Lodge's had a baby and that the poor thing wasn't quite, er... normal. You must have heard about the scene the whole Lodge family made, statin' that such a monster could NOT be a Lodge, and that Amelia was nothin' less than a whore..."

"Rose! Mind your language, please..."

"Ooops, sorry."

"Your father told me he had encountered another case of the Down syndrome, last month. But I ignored it had happened to the Lodges. As much as I despise them, I can't help feeling sorry for that poor woman... What happened this morning?"

"Amelia turned up at the Clinic with her kid, saying her husband wanted to get rid of it... Grandma? You all right? You look pale, is your heart bothering you?"

"No, Rosie, I'm fine. You worry too much, just like your grandfather. I was actually remembering being confronted to a similar situation when I was expecting your father, and as you can imagine, back then we knew even less about this syndrome."

"How did you handle it?"

"Not as well as I should have. Being pregnant colored my judgement and made it impossible for me to maintain my professional distance. I met other children with this problems, before and after that, but what happened to little Thomas Tanner is something I'll never forget."

"Can you tell me more about it?"

"Hmm, well..."

"It's all right if you don't want to, I understand..."

"I will tell you, but right now I'm starving, so let's eat, then we'll drink a nice tea and we'll talk, how's that?"

"Fine with me, Doc!"

*** * ***

The old lady and her granddaughter were settled in the parlor, the former stirring distractedly her tea while the latter was waiting patiently. Rose treasured those moments when her grandmother would share her past experiences with her, and lately a yearning had started simmering deep within her, something she could not yet put into words, but which was steadily getting stronger each time she listened to one of these tales from the past.

The grandmother was taking her time remembering those troubled days. Even after forty years, some of those memories were still vivid as though it had happened only a few days before. Her hand was longing to reach out and clasp another hand, the one which had provided so much comfort when she was too confused and disheartened. But all she had to squeeze was the thick woolen plaid that covered her legs.

She sighed, silently wondering if she should tell the girl everything that transpired during that winter so long ago, or merely talk about what happened to that family, keeping the turmoil she had gone through to herself. Yet she had to be honest with Rose. Her granddaughter was old enough to understand. She took a deep breath and, her eyes staring vacantly at the fire, she began her tale in a hushed tone:

"It all started when your grandfather and I came back from a short trip to Denver..."


	3. Act I

**I**

The sun was shining merrily that day, so one could almost forget the bitter February cold. Lunch time made the good people of Colorado Springs leave their respective workplaces to converge towards Grace's Café. The few streets of the small western town were swarming with farmers, rail workers and cowhands.

To watch all these people going to the Café made Michaela Quinn's stomach rumble aggressively. Sully must have heard it too because he rushed to assist her to stand.

"C'mon, let's get outta here and feed the two of ya before everybody starts to think that we got a bear in there and panic," he teased. For once, she decided to ignore her husband's gentle barbs. They were about to get out of the train carriage and others travelers were beginning to stare at the couple with mild annoyance, which made Michaela terribly uncomfortable. The sooner she was seated before a hot meal she didn't have to fix, the better!

"I hate this," she muttered under her breath, watching carefully her steps down the steep degrees.

"It's all right, as long as you remember it won't last ten years."

Michaela's eyes flew to her husband's. The amusement she saw in them barely concealed the ever-present worry. She took the hint this time and smiled reassuringly. Out of the corner of her eyes, she spotted Brian, who was trying to prevent a very excited Katie from running to them and risking being knocked over in the constant hustle and bustle of the depot. Eager to hug her children, she made a beeline for the platform, Sully on her heels holding their carpet bag. For a few minutes there was a joyous cluster of hugs and kisses; as soon as her daughter loosened her grip enough for Michaela to breathe again, she asked the boy:

"So, how did it go?"

"Everythin' went fine, Ma," answered Brian. "We really had a good time at Miz Grace and Robert E.'s. And Oliver's real fun to be around! Ya shoulda seen Kates with 'im..."

"Baby, Papa!" piped up Katie.

"Did you take good care of the baby, sweet girl?" Katie nodded eagerly, then puckered her face in a very Michaela-like frown. Sully smirked.

"Where my baby?" demanded the little girl.

Michaela chuckled: "It's still in my tummy, sweetheart, where it'll have to stay for a few more months..."

"Why?"

Michaela and Sully looked at each other wryly and Brian rolled his eyes at his little sister. Katie was going through a "why?" phase, and these days it seemed that her questions only stopped when she was asleep!

"The baby needs to stay in your ma's tummy, so it'll be strong an' healthy when it gets born, ya understand?" explained Sully with amused patience. The little girl nodded again and settled down more comfortably in her father's arms.

"How 'bout we have lunch at Grace's, then get home so you girls can rest?" Sully told his wife.

"Mmmh... good idea. How about mine: tonight you'll fix supper so I'll be well rested to enjoy it?"

"Ya'd do anythin' to avoid cookin', wouldn't ya?"

"You know me too well." Michaela pecked her husband playfully on the lips and climbed down the platform, holding Brian's arm for balance. She was stiff from the train ride and, since her swollen middle did nothing to help, she was really looking forward to lying in her bed, cuddling with her daughter. Oh yes, that sounded wonderful! But first she needed to eat.

*** * ***

When she went downstairs for dinner that night, Michaela was pleasantly surprised to find that Matthew and Julia would join them for the evening.

The two women were soon engaged in animated chatter about the goings-on in town. Suddenly, Sully interrupted their conversation and asked shrewdly:

"Somethin' on yer mind, Matthew? Or is my cookin' that much worse 'n your ma's?"

"Sully!" Michaela protested half-heartedly, too busy studying Matthew's odd behavior to fire back.

"Er, no Sully, food's all right. It's... it's just..."

"It's just that Matt proposed to me on Valentine's day, of course I said yes, and he's been wondering all that time how to break the news to you!" laughed Julia.

It took but a second for her announcement to sink in before Michaela and Sully got up to congratulate the newly engaged couple. They were both delighted: Julia was such a fine young woman, level-headed, yet with a solid sense of humor. When her father, Dr. Philip Munroe, had moved to Colorado Springs to take over the management of the Springs Chateau Clinic, she had followed him... barely five minutes after getting out of the train, she had bumped into Matthew, and a week later, she was offered a job as librarian by the town council and an invitation to dinner at Grace's from the local attorney. The young man had immediately started rebuilding his homestead, and it was almost ready for a family to move in.

They all spent the rest of the evening discussing the impending nuptials, which would take place in August. The young couple wanted their wedding to be simple. Michaela, having learnt her lesson with Colleen and Andrew, promised not to interfere with their plans, with such solemnity that everyone had to laugh.

It was quite late when the Sully family (minus Katie who had been put to bed earlier) waved good-bye to Matthew and Julia. As soon as the front door was closed, a yawning Brian bid his parents good night and trod wearily upstairs, leaving Michaela and Sully alone.

"You knew about it all along?" asked Michaela.

"Not really. Just had a feelin'. They've been courtin' for months now. So his proposal ain't that surprising."

"On Valentine's day, of all days! Looks like Matthew had a good teacher in romancing," she added with a coy smile, winding her arms around his shoulders, and shivering when she felt his caressing hands at the small of her back.

"Would ya happen t'know who that teacher might be? I could use some pointers to court the lady I've been sweet on for years," bantered Sully.

Michaela played along: "You didn't tell you were sweet on someone. Who is she? Do I know her?"

"You know her all right... It's the lady doctor from Boston. She's so smart an' beautiful, her hair... her smile... and her eyes, I could lose myself in those eyes," he breathed on her neck, just before kissing voluptuously the sensitive spot where her blood was now pulsating wildly.

"Did you... did you tell her about your feelings?" she asked in a dreamy voice.

"Mmmh hummh," was the muffled answer.

"And how did she answer?"

Sully straightened up and looked intensely into her eyes.

"You tell me," he answered huskily.

The game was over.

*** * ***

Michaela heaved a deep, satisfied sigh. Sully was spooned tightly against her back, slowly catching his breath, as the tension in his body gradually eased. She shivered slightly, still overcome by the pleasurable sensations provided by the heat that was radiating from him, the feel of his hand stroking soothingly her hip and belly, prompting goose bumps to erupt on her skin. She smiled to herself.

"You cold?" breathed Sully in her ear.

"Not in the least... I only feel wonderful." She craned her neck to look at him over her shoulder. In the dim light provided by the fireplace, she caught the familiar twinkle in his eyes that meant more to her that any word. Her smile grew wider.

"Now, who's lookin' pleased with 'emself, huh?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, Mr. Sully," Michaela answered in mock seriousness, reaching across to draw his mouth to hers. She gingerly twisted around to face him, then kissed him anew, long and deep. Their mutual ardor escalated again, but the sound of a wagon nearing the homestead full speed prompted the couple to break off their embrace. Both knew that only a medical emergency would lead someone here this late in the night. Michaela sat up and reached for her undergarments. She cast an apologetic glance at her husband.

"I'm sorry, Sully."

"Not your fault Michaela, I just don' understand why they don' go to Doc Munroe?"

"Well, I suppose Philip needs my help and he's sending for me."

"That may be so, but it'd better be serious. As a doctor, he should know better than to disturb a pregnant lady when she's sleepin'," he grumbled.

"Hum, we weren't exactly sleeping, Sully," Michaela reminded him, barely stifling a small snort of laughter.

Sully only shrugged sheepishly, then rolled out of bed.

They dressed quickly and went downstairs. Sully opened the door to a disheveled Jake.

"Evenin', Sully... Sorry to disturb you, Dr. Mike, but I think you'd better come. Quick"

"What is it Jake?"

"My neighbors, the Tanners... well, Margaret's havin' her baby! Please hurry, ya can hear her scream for miles 'round."

"Is there someone with her?... beside Mr. Tanner, I mean?"

"Er, no..."

"And Philip? Doctor Munroe?"

"Couldn't find him anywhere, otherwise I wouldn't have come here..."

"Of course. Let's go"

*** * ***

As the wagon sped towards the Tanners' farm, Jake explained briefly the situation to Michaela. He felt compelled to add: "Vernon didn' want me to come an' fetch ya, but I managed to convince 'im yer Marg's best chance to come outta this alive..."

"I appreciate this, Jake. You did the right thing. Let's just hope we won't be too late!"

They had barely reached the edge of the propriety when they heard a blood-curling scream. Jake spurred the horse harder, so that they stopped in front of the house but two minutes later. A very pale and disapprovingly silent Vernon ushered them to the bedroom from which were coming hoarse, exhausted moans. The door opened to a small pregnant figure sprawled on a tangle of sheets and quilts. There was Margaret, her dark red hair matted with sweat and her pale eyes wild with pain. Michaela reached out to stroke the young woman's brow sympathetically, then sprang into action. She quickly assessed the situation before turning to the two men to state firmly:

"I need to perform a Cesarean Section, Mr. Tanner."

"What's that?"

"I'll have to take the baby out surgically and..."

"Ya mean you're gonna cut her open? No, no, ya got no right!"

"Mr. Tanner, please, it's their best chance," pleaded Michaela. She cast a glance at Jake, who immediately took the hint.

"Listen here, Vern, Dr. Mike's done this dozens of times. Why don't ya go take a breath out, then come back when it's over. You'll see, in no time you'll have that baby o'yours in your arms. Everything gonna be all right..."

Vernon looked one last time at his writhing wife, nodded briefly and exited. Both physician and barber let out a relieved sigh.

"Thank you, Jake. I'm not sure I would have gone through him if you hadn't been here."

"No charge. Ya need anythin', Dr. Mike?"

"Hmm, yes. Could you bring in a basin of warm water and as much towels as you can find, please? Then you'll help me with the surgery."

Jake looked askance at her for a second. Obviously, he had not expected to actually help with the delivery, but to his credit, he did not protest and went diligently about his task.

A few minutes later, Jake came back with a kettle and a basketful of cloths, to find that Michaela had settled the mother-to-be more comfortably and was explaining the procedure to her:

"... now I'm going to put you to sleep, so I can take the baby without hurting either of you. Are you ready?" Already groggy with hours of agonizing and fruitless contractions, poor Margaret managed to flutter her eyelids in assent. Michaela glanced briefly over her shoulder. "Jake?" she called softly. The barber went to her side and waited for her instructions:

"I want you to give her chloroform," said Michaela as she handed him the anaesthetic and a cloth. "Next you'll take the child and clean it while I stitch her up, all right?" Jake nodded and the pair set out to work. It took only a few moments before she lifted the bloody infant from its mother's womb to place it onto the cloth Jake was presenting. As she was closing the incision, she strained her ears to catch the first cry of the baby. When it didn't came forth, she asked Jake to put his little finger into the baby's mouth to dislodge any mucus that might obstruct its windpipe. There was a small gurgling sound, then a feeble cough, but not yet a cry. Michaela tied the last stitch, cleaned the area again, hastily wiped her hands on a cloth and took the newborn from Jake. She searched for a pulse, found it, then worked on getting the baby to breathe: holding it securely by the heels, she struck firmly the small buttocks. The baby let forth another cough, followed by some kind of mewing. Well, the baby was breathing, yet there was something wrong, but Michaela could not quite pinpoint it.

"Why don't you go and find Mr. Tanner. Tell him he has a son, and that his wife is going to be all right," she told Jake, while cleaning the baby more thoroughly.

"And the baby?"

"I still need to examine him, but I think he will be fine, too."

"'Right. Call me if you need anythin'." Jake closed the door, leaving Michaela with her patients.

While she was wiping away the last traces of blood and vernix from the baby's face, she noticed how listless he was. Most infants protested heartily with the cleaning process, or at least whimpered, but this one did not make a sound. She took a closer look, to ascertain the infant was not suffering from hypoxia. He appeared a bit jaundiced, but there were no signs of oxygen depravation. But what struck her the most were his features. His face was flat, with slanting eyes, and given the yellowish tinge of the skin, it did not take long to Michaela to put two and two together: the baby suffered very probably from the condition which had been known as Mongolism for the last few years. She frowned, unsure of what she should tell the Tanners. She wished Philip had been there, if only for advice. Ever since they had started working together, she had come to rely on him more and more often, whether to assist with delicate surgery, to discuss cases and new treatments, or… lately, to take care of emergencies at night. More than an esteemed colleague, he had become a trusted and caring friend to her and her family, insisting almost as adamantly as Sully on cutting down her hours at the Clinic and rest as much as she could…

Michaela knew she had to tell the Tanners about their son's state of health, and prepare them for whatever might happen in the years to come. She was tempted to postpone the confrontation until she could ask Philip for his opinion, wishing he would disagree with her diagnosis, yet knowing he would only concur. She had seen enough cases, of this particular syndrome as well as other malformations, when working in the asylums and orphanages of Boston: countless of sickly, crippled children, left there because parents could not assume their offspring's handicap. Since she had moved in Colorado, there had been a lot less of cases, but she knew all too well that people's reaction would not be much different here from what she had witnessed before: fear, rejection… what had happened to Zack Lawson was enough proof of that.

Michaela cast a glance at Margaret, who was still unconscious. How would she react? And Vernon? He certainly did not seem the most tolerant kind of person. As she checked her patient's vital signs, a dark feeling of dread uncoiled in her heart. The baby stirred a little, mewing feebly again when she swaddled him in a blanket. The poor thing deserved his parents' love and care, of that she was sure. It was her duty to convince them of this simple truth.

A discreet knock distracted her from her musings.

"Dr. Mike? Is it all right for Vernon to come in?" Jake asked through the door.

Michaela gulped: she felt ill-prepared to face the new father, yet she understood his longing to see his wife and child. With the baby tucked securely in the crook of her arm, she summoned a reassuring smile for the two men and opened the bedroom door.

"Ready to meet your son, Mr. Tanner?" she asked with studied cheerfulness, while feeling bad for acting as if everything was fine. She held out the baby to Vernon, making sure the head was properly supported. The infant emitted small grunts of protest, but quieted again in his father's arms. Vernon's face was a picture: his previous sullen demeanor had all but disappeared, and he was now looking down at his baby with an expression of pure rapture.

"Do you have a name for him?" Michaela inquired gently, moved as always by the sight of a new father and his child meeting for the first time. For a few seconds, she could put out of her mind the painful task still ahead, and savor a -brief- moment of peace.

"Yea, we're gonna call him Thomas, after my Pa", Vernon answered reverently. As he looked straight at her, she could discern an awed shine in his eyes. She sighed inwardly, feeling worse by the minute: why was it up to her to break such sad news and shatter the new-found happiness of this family?

"How's Marg?" he added, glancing toward the bed.

"She's all right, she should come around soon," Michaela reassured him.

Vernon, eager to get a better look at his son, pulled back the blanket a little. His features constricted in a bewildered scowl as he took in the unusual appearance of the little human being nestled in his arms. He looked up again, silently asking for an answer to his unspeakable question. Bracing herself for the now inevitable explanations, Michaela motioned Jake out. The barber seemed to understand that something was wrong and that she needed to talk to Vernon in private. He nodded in acknowledgement and slipped out of the room unobtrusively.

Michaela took a deep breath and began:

"I'd like to speak with you, Mr. Tanner, about your son…"

"My son? It can't mine, it looks like some Chink! Here, take it," he protested, thrusting the now whimpering baby into her arms. Trying not to let his reaction faze her, Michaela accepted silently to hold the baby, so he would be safe from his father's impending wrath.

"The way he looks has nothing to do with him being Chinese. I think Thomas is suffering from a disease known as Mongolism, and his appearance is a symptom of what's ailing him," Michaela detailed.

"You're tellin' me he's sick?"

"Yes."

"It is catchin'?"

"No."

"Can you fix him?" Vernon's voice had risen to a high, strain-pitched tone.

"I'm afraid no one can cure him. This syndrome is a combination of congenital malformations, some of which could be lethal… deadly, I mean."

"He's gonna die?"

"Well, right now his vital signs are all within normal range, so he might live for a few years…" _You must tell him_, urged the voice of her conscience. "But I must warn you that if Thomas indeed lives, he will also suffer from mental deficiency." There. She told him.

"You mean he's an idiot?" Michaela flinched at the use of the offensive term. Yet there was no denying it: the poor child would probably never be able to lead a normal life, going to school, working, having a family on his own. He would need constant care and tutelage. Unable to answer yes to his rhetorical question, she averted her eyes and whispered "I'm sorry."

Now, Vernon's face was white with shock. It was obvious that he was beginning to realize the tremendous burden that was placed on his shoulders. She needed to ensure against his doing something desperate. To buy herself some time to discuss this with Philip and maybe come up with an solution, she thought to ask Jake to stay with the Tanners. The Mayor seemed to be in goods terms with his neighbors, maybe he could provide them with some comfort. As soon as Margaret awoke, she would go to the Chateau. Maybe Philip knew more about this syndrome than she did…. As if on cue, the young woman started mumbling, then her eyes fluttered open.

"My… baby," she croaked, still half-drugged.

"Marg!" Vernon rushed to his wife's side.

"Is it a boy, Sugar?"

"…" Vernon looked totally out of his depth. Michaela's heart went out to the poor man. Sensing she had to step in, she put her hand lightly on his shoulder and answered for him:

"Yes, you have a boy, Mrs. Tanner… How do you feel?"

"Aww… don't know…" Margaret fell back on the pillow with a moan, eyes closed. Vernon panicked again.

"What's wrong with her?"

"It's all right, Mr. Tanner," Michaela tried to placate him. "Your wife's just been through a terrible ordeal, a long and painful labor and, on top of that, a Caesarean. She needs to rest a lot to recover."

"What am I gonna tell her? How can I tell her our baby is… not 'normal'?" He looked down at Margaret, who was sleeping peacefully, unsuspecting of the tragedy she would have to face. Vernon was shaking his head and muttering "Why?" over and over to himself.

Michaela was reluctant to leave them, yet there was nothing much she could do, except monitoring the conditions of both mother and child. She left the bedside for a moment and went out of the room, little Thomas fast asleep in her arms.

"Jake?" she called softly, spotting him outside. Jake had been sitting under the porch, fighting sleep. She saw him jump in his seat.

"Huh?"

"Could you please go back to town and see if Philip is there? If he is, please ask him to come at once," she requested with as much calm as she could muster. Jake opened his mouth to say something, then thought better of it and turned around. The next minute she heard the rumble of the wagon slowly dwindle into the stillness of the night. Going back to the bedroom, she laid the infant down in the hand-hewn crib that stood in the corner opposite the master bed. With her back to the Tanners, she surreptitiously touched her growing belly. A faint movement from deep within her answered the soft caress. Closing her eyes, she sent up a prayer, asking for strength, for everyone in the room. Then she returned to Margaret's side, and began waiting.


	4. Act II

**II**

"Michaela… Michaela!"

Michaela woke up with a start. At first she did not realize where she was, then, as she focused on Philip's face, the memory of the last events came rushing back to her. She closed her eyes again, loath to endure another painful confrontation with the Tanners.

"Get her home and in bed, I'll take it from here." Whom on earth was he talking to?

"Count on it. Thanks Philip."

Sully. She opened her eyes again to see her husband, about to sweep her up in his arms. She forestalled him with a hand on his chest, and rose from her slumped position by herself, grimacing as a sharp pain in her lower back made her pay for sitting so uncomfortably for so long. But it was neither the right place nor time to complain, she had to tell Philip about the baby, Margaret, everything…

Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Vernon slouched in a chair next to the crib, staring vacantly at the wall, but before she had time to think of some reason to stay, Sully had bundled her in her warm cloak, then tugged at her arm and led her outside. Dawn was starting to lighten the horizon and make the frosted tree tops glitter. She felt the frozen scenery was a perfect match for the bitter cold that had seeped into her heart. She was so absorbed by her conflicted feelings that she barely registered what Philip was saying:

"I'm sorry it took me so long to come here. I've been at the Bakers' since last evening."

Ginny Baker! At the mention of her expecting patient, Michaela paid more attention to her colleague.

"How's Ginny?" she asked anxiously. The baby was not due until another three weeks, and with what had happened to the Bakers' first child, she immediately feared the worst.

"She's all right now," Philip answered. He smiled when he announced: "She delivered a boy, then a girl, very early this morning. The little girl is a bit small, but her vital signs are within normal range and…"

Vital signs… within normal range… those were the very same terms she had used when speaking about Thomas. Her previous anguish resurfaced, overpowering completely her concern for her others patients.

"Philip," she interrupted her colleague, "the baby… He has… He's Mongolian."

"Hum… yes it appears so: I took a look at him when I came in. I'm going to stay here, to monitor them both carefully."

"But…"

"No buts, you heard the doctor," Sully chimed in, "now you're comin' with me, and I want you in bed and asleep as soon as we're home." He seized her elbow and stirred her towards the wagon. "See ya Philip."

"See you. Don't worry Michaela, I'll keep you apprised."

Michaela opened her mouth to protest, yet she felt so bone-tired that the mere mention of her bed made her want to hide under the covers and sleep for a week! Nodding her assent, she meekly followed her husband to the wagon…

She roused from a light doze when they stopped in front of the homestead. Leaning heavily on Sully, she got down the carriage and went straight inside. Cozy fires were burning in each earth. Hearing the clatter of some dishes, then the voices of her children, she headed for the kitchen.

"Mornin', Ma!" Brian greeted her with his usual cheerfulness.

"Mama!" Katie jumped down from her chair and ran to her mother "Where you?"

"Morning, children." The sight of their sweet faces was enough to lighten Michaela's downcast mood. Still stiff, she could not bend enough to kiss the tyke's hair, but she patted affectionately the head that was buried in her skirt. Always thoughtful, Brian hoisted his little sister up in his arms, so she could have the indispensable kiss from her mother. Touched, Michaela included Brian in her embrace. Now that he was older, the boy took his responsibilities as a big brother very much to heart and was just as protective as Sully towards her. So was Matthew. She smiled inwardly: between the men of the family and Philip, she was well guarded!

"You look worn out, Ma. Want me to fix ya a bath before I go to school?"

"That's very sweet of you, Brian, but..."

"But I'm gonna take care of your Ma and sister just fine, thanks Brian. It's almost time for ya to go, and we wouldn' want ya to be late," Sully interrupted her. He took Katie from Brian's arms and cuddled her to his chest.

Brian shrugged his shoulders. "All right. You sure you don' need anythin'?"

"We'll be fine, Sweetheart," Michaela reiterated, squeezing his shoulder and smiling at him. "Now, you have a nice day."

"Sure… I'll stop at the Gazette after school, but I'll still be home 'fore supper."

"All right… Hum, Brian, please, would you mind putting a notice on the Clinic door saying I'll be home all day?"

"Sure."

"With Philip at the Tanners' for who knows how long, I'll still have to take care of the emergencies…"

"Michaela…" Sully started to protest.

She rolled her eyes at him: "I certainly hope there won't be any, but you never know. It's _my duty_," she emphasized.

Sully raised his hands in mock surrender. "Always do what your Ma says, Brian."

"Yes, Sir," Brian agreed with a laugh. "I'd better go then. See ya t'night."

"See you, Brian," said Michaela and Sully in unison.

"S'you, Bian," repeated Katie for good measure, waving good-bye from the haven of her father's arms.

*** * ***

Michaela was not sure what had roused her. Had she heard a knock downstairs? Her first thought was that a patient needed her. But then Sully would have come up to wake her. The house was actually very quiet, not even Katie's voice, nor the familiar pitter-patter of her feet could be heard. She tried to convince herself that she did not care, and she sank deeper under the covers. She was actually feeling quite content here, in her warm bed. Determined to enjoy to its fullest this so rare moment of peace, she stretched lazily, yawned and turned onto her other side, more than ready to sleep for another few hours…

A distressed wail shook her out of her drowsiness. Not even pausing to think, eyes still half-closed, she sprang out of bed and out of the room, rushed down the stairs, almost losing her footing in the process. When she looked into the living room, she was surprised to see Philip crouched near the sofa, tweezers in one hand and magnifying glass in the other, operating on Katie's forefinger. The little girl was perched on Sully's knee, hiccuping. When she heard her mother's footsteps, she looked up from the terrifying procedure.

"Mama, Mama, 'pinter!"

Relieved that there was nothing serious, Michaela still had the presence of mind to show the appropriate sympathy towards her daughter's injury, when she joined the threesome. She took the wounded hand and kissed it all better.

As soon as her mother was seated beside her father, Katie crawled onto the maternal lap and sat astride it. The little girl was utterly fascinated by her mother's bulging tummy. Since Michaela had started showing, her daughter's favorite pastime was to "touch" and "kiss" the baby, frequently begging it to come out. Michaela fully expected Katie to ask for the umpteenth time when her sibling was coming, but Sully whisked their impatient offspring off her ma's knees, eliciting exhilarated giggles from the little girl, then carried her to the kitchen on the pretext of giving her a cookie and a glass of milk as a reward to her courage during the extraction of the splinter, thus giving Michaela and Philip some time to talk quietly.

"How are they?" was Michaela's first question. Philip shrugged, and then sighed.

"Honestly… I'm not sure how they're going to cope. Mr. Tanner never said a word to me, and when Mrs. Tanner came around and I told her about our… suspicions, she acted like she didn't care, as if she didn't believe me."

"What do you mean by 'suspicions'? Do you have a reason to think that is not Mongolism?"

"Not really, and I certainly trust your judgment. It's just that I'm not familiar with this kind of disorder. I wanted to check the little information we have on this before establishing a definitive diagnosis."

Michaela felt her throat constrict with guilt: she had asserted to Vernon that his son was affected with Mongolism, but what if she'd been wrong? What if she had misinterpreted the signs? Maybe the baby's features had been distorted by the rigors of birth… No, he didn't come out the natural way… It had to be Mongolism, she was sure of it, yet she knew Philip was right: she should have been more cautious when breaking the news to the father.

"Now, don't go thinking you've made a mistake, Michaela," Philip continued. "I'm sure you're right, after all, from what you told me of the time you spent in asylums and orphanages, you probably saw more cases during that period than I did in my twenty-five years of career!"

"Do you think there's a chance that I might have been wrong?" she insisted. She actually wanted to be wrong. If there were the tiniest possibility that Thomas might be all right, she would be more than willing to make amends, even if it meant losing any trust the Tanners might have felt toward her.

"As much as we wish you were, I seriously doubt it." Philip reached for his bag under his feet, pulled out a couple of medical journals and held them out to Michaela.

"I made a detour through the Chateau before coming here. I suppose you have them as well."

Michaela leafed through the first one cursorily: it dated back to March 1867, and related the observations of Langdon Down, the English physician who had named the syndrome Mongolism. She felt a faint stab of grief in her heart as she remembered the discussion she had with her father about that article, a mere few weeks before he died … Sighing, she focused again on the journals.

She was engrossed in a collection of diagrams when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She looked up to see Sully holding out her robe. Her cheeks warmed in embarrassment when she realized that she wore nothing bur her nightgown.

"I'm… sorry, Ph… Philip," she stammered. "What you must think of me?"

Philip chuckled: "It's all right, Michaela, you don't have you feel embarrassed around me. I understand you have more pressing concerns than getting properly dressed right now."

Smiling half-heartedly, she buttoned hastily the garment and sat again.

"I made coffee, want some?" offered Sully.

"Why, yes. Thank you, Sully," accepted Philip.

Coffee… Michaela realized that she had probably missed lunch, and so had her colleague. She glanced at the clock on the mantle: half past two! No wonder she was so hungry.

"Philip, have you had lunch?"

"Don't worry, I had a bite at the resort kitchen. Cook was kind enough to make a sandwich for me."

"Oh, good…"

"That doesn't mean you can't eat," he added, raising his eyebrows in amusement. Michaela felt herself blushing again. Was she that easy to read, or did Philip possess the same uncanny ability to guess her thoughts that Sully? She turned to her husband. Anticipating her request, Sully announced: "There's some meatloaf and a piece of pie waitin' for ya."

"Meatloaf?"

"Courtesy of Grace. She saw the note on the Clinic door, so she sent Robert E. out here with a basket. Katie an' I ate, but I thought I'd better let you sleep some more," he explained.

"Katie? Where is she?"

"Upstairs, playing house with her doll…"

This time, Michaela smiled genuinely.

"Don't tell me: you're playing the papa, and you told her that you had to go to work."

"That's it," Sully laughed, as he escorted them to the dining room. When both doctors were settled, Sully kissed Michaela's head. "Be right back."

While waiting for her meal, she re-opened the second journal, which was more recent. The article she had been reading when Sully interrupted her was a report about mentally deficient children in general. She perused the last graphics, and then looked up again.

"I remember reading these, especially Down's works. My father and I even talked at length about them. As much as many of his observations are relevant, we both disagreed on some of them. As for Dr. Burnell's article… The figures do speak for themselves, and his comments are interesting, but…"

"But you feel that something's amiss, don't you?"

Michaela frowned. "Well, both of them state that the mental deficiency is most likely caused by a disease contracted by the mother, tuberculosis in particular. Yet Margaret looked healthy enough to me. Besides, I delivered other children, with similar symptoms, whose mothers were fine, too… I don't understand."

"Maybe she came down with something during the early stages of her pregnancy… Do you remember treating her before I came here?"

"No. Mr. Tanner made it quite clear what he thought about my being a doctor… So I assume that if the Tanners ever consulted, they went to see Dr. Cook."

Philip shrugged: "I'll look through the records Andrew left me, maybe I'll find something."

"We could also ask Jake. He's known the Tanners since they settled in Colorado Springs, and now they're neighbors."

"Good idea," replied Philip. His subdued tone puzzled Michaela.

"What is it? Is there something you didn't tell me?"

Philip opened his mouth as if to speak, but no word came forth. Instead, he tapped his forefinger on his chin, a gesture he had when he was hesitating to do or say something. He cast a glance at her, only to tap his finger more frenetically. Michaela's perplexity grew into serious uneasiness at seeing Philip's obvious agitation.

"Philip?" she tried to get his attention again. His nervous tic stopped abruptly, then, after a long pause, he spoke.

"It's true that I haven't cared for as many… congenitally disabled children as you have, but I know a Dr. Hartman, who's specialized in pediatrics, who probably saw more cases than the two of us combined… Well, he told me that the mother's age was determining in this kind of aberrations. He had noticed that the older the mothers were, greater the risk was for them to produce handicapped children, physically, mentally or both…"

"Now that you mention it, most women who had…," she could not help but cringe at the word, "Mongolian babies, whom I delivered, were in their forties, or at least in their late thirties. Yet again, Margaret is quite young, I'd say she's not much older than Julia. So why bringing this… up?" The last word died on her lips. Was it Philip's way to warn her that something could happen to her unborn child?

Philip got up and started pacing in front of her. "I knew I shouldn't have told you this given your condition…"

"Philip, I'm a doctor as much as I am a mother, I know the risks, for the baby and for me, due to my age." Her voice held a tremor of fear, so she took a deep, calming breath. "All I care about right now is finding the best way to help this family. Beginning with establishing a definitive diagnosis."

"I guess we'll have to stick to the one you've made first, then wait and see if the child starts exhibiting others symptoms that might confirm or invalidate it. As for helping the Tanners, I think I'd better handle this case on my own…

"But…"

"Believe me, it would be better, for you especially."

"Ya'd better listen t'him, Michaela", Sully spoke up, coming from the kitchen with a tray. He placed it in front of his wife and sat down next to her, opposite to Philip.

Michaela was starting to resent the men's over-protective attitude. Her cheeks burning from irritation, she glanced from one to the other: "For Heaven's sake, stop treating me like a porcelain doll!" she burst out.

"For Heaven's sake," mimicked Sully, "we're treatin' ya like a pregnant woman! Neither one of us wants anythin' to happen to ya or the baby."

"And you have enough patients to care for," added Philip.

"So do you," she retorted churlishly. Her appetite gone, she pushed the tray away.

"Eat!" both men ordered, Sully shoving the plates back under her nose.

Michaela had enough. She rose angrily and cast a long, murderous glance at the two males before heading for the staircase.

Once upstairs, she could hear the men talking, but could not make out what they were saying. She felt another flush prickling her face, this time in shame. She had acted like a high-strung harpy, instead of being grateful to Philip for his willingness to make things easier for her during the pregnancy, despite his own long list of patients.

"Mama?"

Michaela turned to her daughter, who was standing in the doorway to the nursery.

"Sweetheart…"

"Where Papa?"

"Downstairs, with Philip."

"Play wid me?" the little girl requested sweetly, tugging lightly on her mother's sleeve. The child let out a tiny yawn, and Michaela could only guess that Sully had not been able to put Katie down for her nap. Lately their daughter resisted every attempt to get her to sleep in the afternoons, but usually ended up fast asleep in a corner.

"How about we go to my room?" Michaela suggested.

Katie followed her mother trustfully, then climbed on the bed when Michaela sat down.

"What we do now, Mama?"

Michaela smiled down at her daughter: "Before we start playing, I think I'd like a big hug from you." With these words, she wrapped her arm around the little girl's shoulders. Obviously pleased with having her mother's undivided attention, Katie snuggled up against her, resting one of her hands on the small mound that was harboring her sibling. Michaela smiled when she perceived the bubbly feeling that answered to the touch of the tiny hand. Unfortunately, it was still too soon for Katie to feel the movements of the baby, but it would be only a matter of a few weeks before she could. She hugged her little girl tighter, overwhelmed with the awareness of these young lives, of whom she was responsible… She was indeed blessed beyond her dreams.

As Michaela had sensed, it had not taken a long time for Katie to fall asleep. Careful not to disturb the little one's rest, she rose slowly from the bed after settling her daughter on her side of the unmade bed, under the warm winter quilt that was still holding some of her body heat from her morning siesta.

Before going back downstairs to apologize to Philip and Sully for her ill-tempered demeanor, she observed lovingly her child, curled up under the cover, thumb in mouth, for a few more seconds, then quietly left.

To her stupefaction, Philip was nowhere to be seen when she reached the bottom stair.

"Sully, where's Philip?"

"Gone."

"Gone?… Oh dear, he must be terribly upset with me," she bemoaned.

Sully came up behind her and enfolded her in his arms.

"Don't worry, he's not…"

"…"

"Neither am I," he added soothingly, reading her thoughts.

"You should be, I acted like a spoiled child, when you were both looking out for me." She hanged down her head in shame. "I'm sorry."

"Ssh, it's all right. We understand." He rocked her gently for some time, silently re-establishing their loving connection.

"Are ya hungry, now?"

With a smile and a nod, she followed him to the kitchen. Once seated and delving enthusiastically into her meal, she was able to relax a bit, her uneasiness momentarily forgotten as she gobbled down two thick slices of meatloaf, then the remaining half of an apple and cinnamon pie. During the whole process Sully eyed her with increasing disbelief, but to his credit, refrained from commenting.

"How 'bout a cup of tea?" he proposed thoughtfully, watching her licking her lips for any remnants of apple juice.

"That would be nice, thank you, Sully."

He had a pot ready in no time. She looked up at him, more grateful than ever for his love, his tenderness, his care, while he was pouring the hot beverage in two mugs.

"Thank you," she uttered again softly, her hand pressing lovingly his forearm.

"No charge…"

"Are you sure?" she whispered with faked innocence, fluttering her eyelashes invitingly. Sully chuckled, then bent forwards to receive his payment.

"Mmmh… Ya sure taste good," he commented hoarsely when he pulled back, before sitting again. They sat in companionable silence, sipping their tea, occasionally leaning toward each other for some more sugary kisses.

"Katie's sleepin'?" Sully inquired presently.

Michaela nodded with a fond smile: "In our bed, no less!"

Sully grinned, too, picturing their tiny daughter curled up in the middle of their large bed.

"Well, nobody said you couldn't join her and finish your nap…"

"Sully, honestly," Michaela interjected, "I've been sleeping all morning, and well into the afternoon. In fact, I don't remember going to bed… not even having my bath," she wondered out loud.

"I'll bet! When I came back from the barn, 'found ya sound asleep right here. Didn't even bother with fillin' the tub, I just took ya upstairs. Gee, ya didn' even stir when I helped ya into yer nigh'gown!"

"Really? Oh dear, I'm sorry, Sully, I…"

"It's all right, you were exhausted," he interrupted her gently. He reached out to caress her cheek. "An' ya know how much I love t'pamper ya, dontcha?"

She answered with a kiss on his hand.

"The tub's under the stairs, I can still fix ya that bath, what d'ya say?"

"I say 'I love you'!" They got up, but before Sully could go about his task, Michaela had locked her arms tightly around his neck. Eyes twinkling, she requested in her most seductive tone: "Will you wash my back?"

"Do I have a choice?" he teased. He hugged her briefly then started putting more water to heat. As she watched him move around the kitchen, her light-hearted mood dissolved, and her earlier fear that something could happen to her baby returned to form a hard knot in her now full stomach. What would they do if their child was to be born sick, disabled? How would Sully react? Of course, if she asked him, he would tell her he would love the baby no matter what, and he would mean it. Sully was nothing like Vernon Tanner, except for his obvious love for his wife. Yet, she could not help but doubt.

"Sully?"

He was presently dragging the tub into the kitchen. He stopped and twisted around to look at her.

"What?"

"Just…" She caught herself: there was no use asking him such a question, he would only resent her for not trusting him. She plastered what she hoped to be a tender smile on her lips: "I love you."


	5. Act III

**III**

The next few weeks flew by, as the late winter brought on cold winds and heavy rains, along with its usual catarrhs. A good half of the population of Colorado Springs went to the Clinic with runny noses and sore throats. As benign as the virus was, it was nonetheless contagious, and it seemed to Michaela that she was spending every waking hour in town. Phillip was just as busy as she was, between managing the Health Resort with its growing number of guests and tending to his regular patients, leaving her on her own most of the time. Had she not been pregnant, she would not have minded the long hours rushing from one recovery room to another, bending over her patients to provide them with relief and comfort.

One late afternoon, at last, she was left with only one patient to care for, a girl whose cold had developed into bronchitis. Twelve-year-old Anna Gressinger was sitting in bed, propped up by several pillows, her face red with fever and the strain of constant coughing. As much as Michaela longed for a bath and a long night of undisturbed sleep at home, she could never leave a patient alone, especially one who was feeling so poorly.

She was gently bathing Anna's brow and cheeks with a wet cloth when Anna's mother, Mona, slipped into the room.

"How is she doin', Dr. Mike?"

"Right now, she's still coughing some phlegm, but her temperature was one hundred and one when I last checked, which is encouraging, since it's one degree less than yesterday at the same time."

"So she's gonna get better?"

"It will take some time yet, but yes, I believe she'll pull through."

"Good. Why don't you go home, Dr. Mike? You've been in that Clinic for weeks, taking care of everybody. Time you took care of yourself, especially now," Mona advised, pointing discreetly at the doctor's stomach. "I can look after my girl."

"Well… There's enough willow bark tea in here to last the night. She'll have to take a tablespoon of syrup after dinner tonight," Michaela instructed, indicating the small bottle of mixed tinctures of elecampane and thyme. "Try to keep her as comfortable as possible and… I… I'll see you both in the morning," she finally relented, her eagerness to go home at war with her worry for her young patient. She bent over Anna, stroking her hot forehead.

"Thanks, Dr. Mike," the girl managed to croak.

"Ssh, now you try to rest. Your mother is right here with you." She straightened up stiffly and went out of the room. Before closing the door, she waved goodbye and could not help but state the obvious to Mona: "Please send for me if you need anything." Mona only smiled and shooed her away.

When she stepped into her office, she almost jumped with surprise at seeing Sully leaning against the examination table.

"Ready?"

"What are you doing here?" she wondered out loud as he helped her out of her apron and into her coat.

"Saw Mona at the depot just before she came here. She told me 'bout Anna. I offered to look after the farm and help Reggie with the chores in the mornin', so she can stay here."

"That's sweet of you," she commented.

"Well.… Since you don' have no other patient in here, you can go home with me, can't ya?"

As an answer, Michaela rested her head tiredly on his shoulder.

"C'mon, there's some nice stew and a hot bath waitin' fer ya."

*** * ***

Michaela sighed heavily as she listened to Sully trying to reason with Katie, who had been crying for the last hour: now the little girl wanted to sleep with her parents, after spending dinner time playing with her food instead of eating it. Michaela already had got up twice to try to lull her daughter to sleep, only to hear loud sobbing anew as soon as she was settled in bed again. Finally Sully had gone to Katie's room. Both parents feared that if they indulged their daughter for that kind of whim, she would throw a tantrum every time she would not get what she wanted.

Katie's cries subsided at last, and Sully came back a minute later.

"I reckon she's gonna sleep now," he announced.

"I certainly hope so. But we can hardly blame her for being upset; lately I haven't been home much…"

"That doesn' mean ya gotta blame yerself instead."

"But I don't want Katie to resent me! What if she grows up hating me for not being here when she needs me?"

"Tell me somethin': did ya resent yer Pa 'cause he was spendin' so much time at that hospital?"

Michaela blinked away the tears that were springing from her eyes, shaking her head slowly in answer.

"No, 'cause ya knew he loved ya more than anythin'," he went on, "and 'cause ya understood he had an important job helpin' all those folks. One day, soon, Katie'll accept that too, the way the Cooper kids did… the way the new baby will have to once he's grown up." He cupped her belly tenderly, a soft, winning smile on his lips. Michaela smiled back through her drying tears.

"Sometimes I wonder what I would do if you weren't there to help me think straight."

"Maybe you woulda married William Burke, or David when he came here…"

"Or the Reverend! Can you imagine that?"

"Don't have to, I was right there when they all proposed to ya. Gives me the chills just to think 'bout it…"

"How can I thank you for keeping me from making those terrible mistakes?" She leaned toward him, pressing light, teasing kisses on his cheeks, chin, then lingering ones on his mouth.

"You're doin' a wonderful job right now," he whispered against her lips. After a few more kisses, they reclined on the bed, Michaela snuggling up to her husband as close as her belly would allow. As exhausted as she was, she was still too disturbed to sleep.

"Somethin' else on yer mind?"

Typical Sully. She struggled a moment with how to phrase her concerns, bracing herself for his predictable reaction to her comments.

"Ahem… with what happened these last few weeks, I've come to realize that soon, I will lack the time and space necessary to care properly for all my patients."

"That's gonna get worse once the baby's born, Michaela…"

"I know… But with all those new settlers, it's getting harder for Phillip and me to take care of everybody… What if we were to face another influenza outbreak? Or… or diphtheria, again? How would we manage?"

"Knowin' ya, you'd find a way. But you're right. Phillip got his own work at the resort, and for a few months…"

"… I won't be able to work," Michaela finished her husband's statement. "I've learned my lesson with Katie. I won't do the same mistakes with that one." She sighed again, looking up at the ceiling. When she did not elaborate, Sully suggested:

"Maybe it's time the town hired a new doc…"

"That's what Phillip and I thought. But it is easier said than done. First he will need a place to set up his practice…"

"I can take care of that, ya know…"

"I do, Sully, I knew you'd offer to build a new clinic." She smiled tenderly and stroked his rough cheek in appreciation. "But there's another problem: most of my patients still pay me in chicken and pies, and we make do with it, Phillip's income is secure because the Chateau guests are wealthy. How, where are we going to find a town physician who would be willing to work for very little money and a few pounds of apples and corn?"

"I'm sure you're gonna find one. Dr. Burke was doin' that… pro somethin' kinda work, wasn' he?"

"Pro bono, you mean… Yes, and he probably still does. Yet he also has a quite impressive list of well-off patients…"

"Have you thought about hirin' 'nother woman?"

"That thought did cross my mind, but then there still will be some people who won't come to town to be treated…"

"Look… how 'bout we let this matter rest for tonight, and we sleep on it? Right now you're too tired to think clearly."

"Once again, you're right," Michaela sighed. "Good night, Sully."

"'Night, Michaela… Sweet dreams, now"

Surrendering to her exhaustion and Sully's soothing caresses along her spine, she finally fell asleep.

*** * ***

"Another doc'?" Jake stared at her, flabbergasted, as if she had suggested they would build a machine to go to the moon. Michaela had come to see him to ask his opinion as mayor, but she immediately understood it would not be easy, and she dared not imagine his reaction had she proposed another female physician...

"Maybe we could discuss this during the next town council, this way everyone'll be able to voice their opinion. What do you think?"

Jake, looking deep in thought, did not answer right away. She waited as patiently as she could, knowing that Jake needed to realize that another physician would be the best for Colorado Springs.

"I'd never thought you'd ask that the town council looks for a new doc, what with the way ya…"

"The way I've always insisted I could do it all better than any man?" she finished for Jake, a sheepish smile teasing the corner of her mouth. "I've been discussing this issue with Phillip and my husband at length, and it hadn't been a decision easy to take for me," she admitted candidly. "And finding a competent physician who'd be willing to work in a frontier town, where half the population can't pay in cash, is going to be all the more difficult…"

She paused, unsure that she had convinced him, since she had so many reservations herself. Yet, the arrival of others physicians in Colorado Springs was something that was bound to happen one day, she had known this for quite some time, ever since Sully had brought up the subject when they were at odds because of the coming of the railroad. In fact, when Andrew first arrived from Boston, she had had a taste of what it felt like to have some "competition". As grateful as she had been for his help, it had taken some time to get used to the fact that she would no longer be the only person the sick and injured would turn to. She could only hope she would be able to work alongside the new doctor the way she did with Phillip.

"Ya think so? Andrew worked with ya 'fore he went to the Chateau. Ya both managed, and back then there weren't all these newcomers."

Seeing him warming up to the idea, she sighed inwardly with relief. Maybe it would go more smoothly than she thought.

"Let's set the next council on Friday, is that all right with ya?"

"It's perfect, Jake. Thank…" At that moment a loud bang erupted in the street, and Michaela spotted two men under the porch of the Gold Nugget, fighting wildly, fists flying everywhere.

"Gosh, that's Vernon!"

Indeed Mr. Tanner had his opponent locked in a tight grip, his features distorted with rage. Michaela followed Jake outside, and soon the barber had pulled his neighbor from the other man while Hank was trying to prevent his customer to retaliate.

"Stop Vern, stop!"

"What's goin' on here?" Daniel arrived upon the scene. "What happened?" he spat to the owner of the Gold Nugget, as if he was responsible.

Jake looked at Hank too, waiting for his friend to explain.

"I'm not sure, those two started fightin' while I was in the back, till Ginger came an' fetch me. Told me Hampton here was makin' fun of Vern… Don't know nuthin' else."

Michaela and Jake looked at each other: both knew why Hank's customer was taunting Vernon, he must have learnt that Thomas was disabled. As if on cue, the man let out another jibe:

"What did ya expect? Look at yerself, an' at yer woman, no wonder the kid looks like it belongs to a circus!"

Vernon struggled to free himself from Jake's hold, but before he could lunge at anyone, Hank, who had let the other man into the sheriff's care, had seized him by the waist. Overpowered, Vernon could only roar furiously as everyone watched the trouble-maker being led to the jail.

"Ya'd better go home now, Vern. Marg and the baby need you more than that drunk…"

"Don't tell me what t'do, ye have no idea what it's like…"

"Jake sure don't," interrupted Hank, "but I do. My son Zack's been pushed around an' made fun of, too. But my boy turned out all right…"

Michaela was amazed, yet she knew she should not be surprised by Hank's reaction. As ornery and sardonic as he could be, Hank was also soft-hearted when it came to children. He, of all people, could understand what Mr. Tanner was going through, and, she hoped, would find the words which would pacify the distress ed father, even though he knew Thomas' condition was much more serious than Zack's.

Vernon stopped fighting off the two men who, seeing him slightly calmer, let him go. A strained silence followed; Michaela sensed that Jake and Hank were just as wary as she was about doing or saying something that would further upset Vernon. He was standing in the middle of the street, fists clenched, barely holding his rage in check. Some passers-by had gathered around, and were starting to point and whisper. The overwhelmed father could not bear with being the brunt of mockery any longer. He stormed off, and ran for dear life, jostling a few people in the process. Michaela, Jake and Hank could only watch him disappear around the corner, leaving a cloud of dust behind him.

The small crowd disbanded slowly. Michaela returned inside, wishing she would find something to do, cleaning, updating files, anything to keep her mind off what had just happened. For a few weeks she had been able to forget all about the Tanners. But it seemed that they were destined to cross her path again, and she could not help but wonder if it was a mere coincidence or a warning that she shouldn't take the relative comfort and stability of her life for granted.

*** * ***

Michaela shifted position again, to find herself facing Sully. He was still sleeping peacefully, not disturbed in the least by her restlessness: she had got up three times in the last two hours, fluffed and punched her pillow, rolled to her right side, on her back, on her side again, only to completely roll over and end up on her left side. In the dim light provided by the dying fire she could discern a faint smile on his lips. She was torn between utmost tenderness (how sweet he looked!) and mild annoyance (how dared he sleep while she was tossing and turning?). He was indeed sleeping like a baby, with one of his hands curled next to his head. Her love for him won easily over her exasperation; she reached out and touched lightly his hand, caressed his palm and threaded fingers with him. She thought whimsically that his hand was the very image of Sully's personality: rough in appearance, yet tender, loving, caring… and sensual. Her cheeks warmed with a faint blush, prompting her to smile to herself: it still felt wonderful to be stirred by such a simple thing as holding his hand.

A light squeeze on her fingers drew her attention back to her husband. His eyes were open. She squeezed his hand back. There was no need for words, not even a kiss from him, she only moved her hand slowly into his, rubbing softly her palm and the tips of her fingers against his. She felt his pulse gradually accelerating in his wrist to match her own galloping heartbeat. Neither one was anxious to make the next move, they liked it that way too, to let desire suffuse them gently, unhurriedly…

Was it one, ten or twenty minutes later that Sully finally slithered closer and slipped his arms around her enlarged waist… she didn't care. She offered her lips to his kiss and let herself melt into his embrace, delighting in every sensation.

"It's been a while," he whispered near her ear. It had been a long time indeed… his breath on her neck was making her dizzier by the minute, and the amorous tension within her was overwhelming. Nightclothes flew across the room and….

A loud bang startled them quite violently out of their trance.

"Wha… what's that?" Sully nearly fell off the bed in shock. Michaela's body burned with frustration when he disengaged himself from her arms, rose, quite awkwardly because of his own aroused state, and started to dress. Another bang made the front door rattle, and the sound of Brian rushing downstairs followed. Within a minute, the young man had climbed up again and was knocking at his parents' door:

"Pa! Pa? Wake up, Daniel's here with Matthew an' Jake, they need your help! Pa, wake up!"

Michaela heard her husband gulp before he answered in a slightly strained voice "Be down in a minute!" He took a few deep breaths before buttoning his buckskins, then circled the bed to bend over her. "Looks like nobody wanna give us some privacy…" In answer she wound her arms around his neck and kissed him one last time, a kiss meant to be light and short, but which grew deeper and longer, charged with their unfulfilled longings. When he straightened up, she followed him, still holding onto his shoulders with all her might. The sound of muffled voices downstairs beckoned them back to reality.

"Please be careful, and…"

"Matthew an' me will look out for each other, yes, I promise… Don't wait for me tonight, we might be gone a while."

"What do you think they need you for?"

"Gonna find out… Now, be sure to rest, all right? Ask Brian and Dorothy for help."

"Don't worry about us."

"See ya."

"See you," she choked out as she released him. As he was about to close the door behind him, he winked at her cheekily and commented: "Ain't ya a sight!"

As the door clicked shut, she gasped in shock when she realized how positively lascivious she looked, sitting on her heels with the bed covers now only covering the tip of one knee. She clutched futilely the sheet to her bosom, as if there was someone in the room who could see her. Now she was left alone with her yearnings, and the hope that Sully would be back very soon.


	6. Intermission

**Intermission**

"The next day, Sully joined a posse to search for Mr. Tanner who had disappeared during the night with his son…"

"Margaret must have been frantic," assumed Rose.

The clock chose that moment to chime.

"Gosh! I'm late for dinner!" Rose sprang up, threw her coat on and plunked her wool hat haphazardly on her head; before rushing out, she kissed her grand-mother's cheek, and let out a fretful: "Mother's gonna kill me!"

Michaela opened her mouth to object, but thought better of it. It had taken a long time for her to finally agree with Sully that sometimes one should better not meddle with others' quarrels, hard as it was when it was one's own family.

She was left alone with her thoughts again, but right now she was glad to, and most of all relieved: her precise recollection of the events of that morning had brought a hot flush to her face. With the reddish glow of the fire, it was probably barely noticeable, and in her haste, Rose could not have possibly noticed. Sully's faint chuckle rang in Michaela's memory; she could picture him, clear as day, gently mocking her and her forever modesty.

She stood up stiffly, her old bones protesting at being drawn from the coziness of the armchair, and headed for the kitchen to try and fix something edible for her supper, then she would retire to her room. Rose might stay at her parents' that night. No use to wait for her return.

*** * ***

Rose opened the door carefully. A few strains of music were coming from the living room, and she could hear the distant, but distinct sound of her mother's angry voice. She closed the door behind her as discreetly as she could, took off her shoes and crept to the living room, where she hoped to find Alice.

Indeed her sister was sitting at the piano, practicing scales, while their little brother was reading, slumped in their father's favorite easy chair.

"You're late, sis', maybe you should have stayed with Grandma," murmured Alice without stopping her exercise.

"Mother's gonna skin you alive," added Michael for good measure.

"No need to tell me. You can hear her from outside. She's probably givin' an earful to Daddy." Rose frowned to assume her mother's familiar scowl: "You shouldn't give in to Rose's every whim," she boomed in a flawless imitation of her mother's manner of speech. "You spoiled her too much, and now she's behaving like a boor and an eccentric" she roared threateningly at Michael, who was tittering uncontrollably behind his copy of _Treasure Island_, while Alice was shaking her head wryly.

"You'd better go up now and face the dragon," she admonished her older sister, "before she comes back down here and burn the three of us down..."

"Especially if she hears you call her 'the dragon'," Michael sneered.

"Hey, you called her that first!"

"No, 'twas you!" He flung a cushion at Alice.

The playful bickering of her siblings did little to quell Rose's anxiety. She loved and respected her mother, but had never felt close to her the way she did her father, and the same was true for Alice and Michael. And since Joss' death, their estrangement had grown steadily deeper. She was not as afraid of being reprimanded as she was worried about her mother's worsening temper. She climbed the steps resolutely and stopped before the door, left ajar, of her father's study, her hand poised to knock.

"Listen to yourself, Diana; you're not making any sense. My parents are certainly not responsible for our son's recklessness." Joseph Sully's voice held a note of uncharacteristic impatience. "And how dare you accuse my mother of turning Rose against you! It's your guilt and your bitterness that stand between you and our children."

"Guilt? Why should I feel guilty of anything?" retorted Diana in a piercing tone.

"Because you failed to keep him from enlisting in the Army and going to Europe," answered Joseph wearily, obviously tormented by his own failure to prevent the tragedy.

"That's enough, Joseph. Stop, please stop." Faint sobs filtered through the small opening.

Rose lowered her hand, uncomfortable with witnessing what appeared to be a painful, but salutary confrontation between her parents. She was saved from having to choose between interrupting their conversation and going back downstairs by her mother's opening the door wider. Diana's gray eyes were sparkling with tears and resentment.

"There you are," she spat. "Why did you ever bother to come home at all, if you couldn't be on time for dinner?"

Without waiting for her daughter's excuse, she stormed out of the study to her room, slamming both doors behind her and leaving Rose rather dumbfounded.

"Rose?"

She turned her head to see her father smiling benignly at her. He beckoned her inside and resumed his place at his desk. Out of habit, Rose perched herself on one corner. She looked down at his drawn face, which betrayed both his exhaustion and his grief, despite his efforts to appear composed.

"I'm really sorry, Daddy. I didn't forget, I just..."

"You just lost track of time," Joseph finished, patting her knee comprehensively. He sighed. "Runs in the family."

Rose smiled a bit ruefully: "I suppose. But I don't understand why Mother makes such a fuss over the littlest things. Mike told me she went hysterical because of a shirt he had ruined by fallin' in a puddle of mud... What, with our family history, she should have thought it meant good luck... Sorry, it wasn't funny," she apologized when she noticed her father didn't smile at the evocation of the "love story" between their family and the Colorado mud.

"It would have been in other circumstances, I guess. Forgive my low spirits, Rosie, it's been a long day."

"How are things with the Lodges?"

"Actually, I expected much worse from them…"

"What d'ya mean?"

Joseph glanced at her daughter significantly.

"Ya think… they coulda killed… their baby?" stammered Rose in horror.

Joseph cocked an eyebrow in assent.

"How could someone do this? It's… it's…. there's no word for that!" Rose fumed.

"Since the Lodges tend to consider their offspring only as heirs to their dynastic prestige, how could they accept a disabled child, even to a small degree? Easier for everyone to make the baby disappear."

Rose could not help but wince at the gruesome images her mind conjured up at her father's words. A lifeless tiny body being jerked from under a murderous pillow, before being thrown into an anonymous hole, without a decent burial… She shuddered.

"Trouble is," Joseph carried on, "now that the child's condition has become public's knowledge, Clarence can't pretend the child died in its sleep one night, it would appear too suspicious. And with Amelia sheltered at the Clinic for now, he's completely powerless." He removed his spectacles and rubbed his temples tiredly. In a second, Rose was on her feet again.

"Want me to bring ya somethin' to drink, Daddy? Maypop?"

"Don't worry, sweet girl," Joseph stated, giving her daughter's waist a light squeeze. "You should get back downstairs, and spend the evening with your sister and brother. They miss you, you know."

"Yeah… won't you join us? We could play cards," Rose suggested.

"Maybe later, I still need to read those." Joseph indicated the small pile of papers in front of him.

Rose stuck out her lower lip in an affected pout: "You work too much."

Both chuckled softly and said in unison: " Runs in the family!"

"See you in a little bit then." Rose kissed the small hairless patch on the very top of her father's head and headed out. Before she went through the door, Joseph called her back.

"Rose, don't be too hard on your mother, she's still grieving."

"We all are, Dad, but we're not bitin' each other's head off for that matter. That won't bring Joss back."

"I know, but please tell your siblings to be more patient with her, will you?"

Rose nodded, fighting the urge to point out that it was probably a lost battle since her mother's behavior was even trying to his renowned patience. She could only try…

*** * ***

"Already up and about, Sweetheart?"

Michaela was very surprised to see Rose in the kitchen, busily cooking breakfast, when she came downstairs the next morning.

"Yup. Same could be said 'bout you."

"When did you come back?"

"Just a few minutes ago. Daddy dropped me on his way to the Clinic, he wants to check on Amelia and her baby." Rose's voice trembled on the last words, when she remembered the atrocities her father had mentioned the night before.

Michaela perceived a slight change in her granddaughter's attitude. "Something happened?"

Rose hesitated only a second, for she knew she could tell and ask anything to her grandmother.

"Not really… but Dad told me somethin' quite… upsetting."

"What was it?"

"Is it true that some parents k… kill their own kid, 'cause they can't accept it's not normal?"

For a second Michaela feared the worst: "Are you telling me the Lodges would…?"

"Oh, no, no, no, Gran'ma! Nothin's happened to the Lodge baby, although Dad had feared it might for a while… But the idea of…," Rose could not go on.

"I understand your shock, yet I'm afraid it's a very sad reality. There are people who just can't cope with what they consider an inextricable situation, which lead them to do something desperate, like killing."

"But Gran'ma… a baby! How can a parent do that to its own child?"

"Some think their child will be better off dead, some others just can't take the ridicule and get rid of their baby, whatever the means."

Rose put down her forkful of egg, her appetite gone.

"What happened to little Thomas? Did Vernon…"again Rose could not bring herself to say the words.

"No, he didn't kill his son. The men found the two of them on the road to Denver…"


	7. Act IV

**iv**

Michaela splashed her face copiously with cold water, in an attempt to cool down, her thwarted lust still pounding painfully through her body. She tried with all her might to block out the lingering sensation of his hands on her skin, as if he was still right here with her, touching, exploring….

_Stop__!_ Her mind screamed out. She took several deep breaths, focusing on her schedule for the workday. _I must get ready, I have three appointments early… three appointments_, she repeated to herself as she put her clothes on… Once fully dressed, and her hair neatly knotted in a strict bun, she felt a little calmer, enough to go downstairs and have breakfast with Brian. She peeked inside Katie's room, expecting her daughter to be awake, with all the commotion the men had made a few minutes earlier.

"Mama." Katie reached out her little arms to her mother, her eyes huge with fright.

"Oh, there's nothing to be scared of, Sweetheart," Michaela crooned reassuringly as she came in. "Just your brother and your papa being very noisy, that's all… Morning, sweet Katie." She leaned forward, somewhat awkwardly, to hug and kiss her little girl.

"'Nin', Mama," Katie chanted back. Michaela prepared her daughter for the day then led the way down to the kitchen, quite slowly because of her belly and Katie's short legs. When the child spotted her brother, she ran to him. "B'ian!"

"Hey, Kates, up with the chickens?" She giggled in answer, hugging Brian's knees.

"Mornin', Ma. Sorry we woke you up."

"It's all right, Brian, I had to get up early, I have a busy day."

"Goin' on rounds?"

"No, but I have some appointments in the morning, and I need to finish preparing my order for new medical supplies."

"Ya want me to help ya at the Clinic after school?"

"It won't be necessary, but thank you for the offer, Brian. You already help us so much with Katie, and the chores…"

Brian shrugged: "Least I can do."

"So, what was all that agitation about?"

"Uh, oh… that…. Jake said somethin' about his neighbor gone missin'… His baby too."

Michaela dropped the spoon full of oatmeal halfway between the dish and her bowl, splattering the table with the warm mixture. "What?"

"He didn't say much, only that, huh… Margaret had come to his house in the middle o' the night, screamin', askin' him to find her husband an' baby… D'ya know them, Ma?"

"Yes. Remember the night right after Sully and I came back from Denver?"

"Yeah, ya went out to help a woman have her baby, and ya only came back home the next mornin'…" Brian frowned, trying to piece everything together. "Why would Jake's neighbor run off like that with his kid? Did his wife do something' bad?"

"Oh no, Brian, Margaret didn't do anything wrong." Michaela shook her head woefully. As despicable as Vernon's misdeed was, one could easily assume that the man had seen no other alternative to relieve himself of his responsibility. She looked down at her bowl of oatmeal: without warning, her stomach churned sickeningly, and she could only dash to the outhouse, a hand clamped firmly on her mouth, a very worried Brian on her heels.

"Mornin' sickness again?" his voice filtered through the door. "I thought ya were over it..."

Michaela took a few deep breaths, swallowed the ball of bitterness that was constricting her throat and answered:

"It can happen any time, Brian. Don't worry, it's perfectly nor..." She could not finish her sentence for she was overcome by another wave of nausea. Between two heaves, she managed to say: "Please, look after Katie... I'll be fine in a minute..." She heard her son humph loudly, before he turned around and plodded back to the kitchen.

It took some time for the queasiness to pass, long enough for Michaela to realize it had little to do with her pregnancy. She was sick mainly out of dismay, and with her earlier frustration still weighing on her, it was no wonder her frayed emotions were getting the best of her. _Get a grip on yourself, girl_, her mind chided. She had more important things to do than to sit there and feel sorry for herself, beginning with eating a proper breakfast, if only for her baby's sake. She passed softly her hand on her stomach. "Don't worry, I'll always love and take care of you, sweet thing," she murmured. "Mama won't ever let anything happen to you."

*** * ***

Less than an hour later, everyone was fed, dressed and seated in the wagon. Katie was sandwiched between her mother and her brother, softly humming to her doll the lullaby Michaela had sung to her the evening before; Brian had insisted to drive, as he almost always did since he knew his mother was expecting again, whenever Sully was not around. He reminded Michaela of Matthew when she had first met the Cooper children: Brian was constantly looking for a way to make things easier for her, the way Matthew had done with Charlotte, both taking their role as man of the house very much at heart.

Brian was silent, he who usually talked at length of his projects, his friends or his visions on life. Michaela knew her short, but to-the-point explanation about the goings-on of the Tanner family, when she had felt well enough to go back to the kitchen, had shocked her son, and she wondered if she had done the right thing by telling him. Granted, he was familiar with sickness, death, sorrow... Too much for a fourteen-year-old boy, she mused grimly. Yet she'd rather have him learn the whole affair from her than from the gossiping tongues in town.

"Mornin' Dr. Mike, Brian, an' you, Miss Katie," Robert E. greeted them as Brian reined in the horses in front of the livery. The blacksmith assisted Michaela and Katie to get down, gave the boy a friendly pat on his shoulder and started unhitching the wagon.

"Hey Robert E.!... See ya both later. Good day." After a brief kiss to his mother and sister, he scampered off to school. Michaela watched her son go, hoping his school work would keep his mind off his troubled thoughts.

Once inside the Clinic, she settled Katie in the room she sometimes used as a substitute nursery, right next to her office, with a small collection of toys so that the little girl could entertain herself while she was caring for her patients. Just as she was opening her charts drawer, the bell rang. She glanced at the clock: Mr. Barlow was not due until another half an hour... It had to be someone else, unless the old man was feeling poorly again.

"How may I hel...." She stopped short as she beheld the sorry sight of Margaret, red-faced and puffy-eyed, hiccuping between two loud sobs, and supported by an exhausted-looking Teresa Slicker.

"I am sorry to disturb you, Dr. Quinn, but I thought bringing Margaret at your Clinic was the best thing. to do. I do not wish to leave her alone, but..."

"But your students are waiting for you, I understand. You did the right thing. Please come in."

The two women helped a howling Margaret to sit on the cot.

"Thank you for your thoughtfulness, Mrs. Slicker."

"De nada," Teresa said softly, lowering her eyes. "I must go now, but if you don't mind, I would like to come back here during lunch recess to see how she is doing."

"You're welcome to come here anytime, of course. Meanwhile, I'll try to make her as comfortable as I can."

"Well… I will see you later, then." Teresa exited discreetly, leaving her neighbor in the doctor's care.

As a physician, Michaela considered giving the poor woman a sedative, so that she would rest. But as a mother, she fully understood Margaret's anguish and her need to be reassured. She sat on the cot beside the young woman and put a consoling arm around her shoulders.

"They will find your son, and bring him back safe and sound, I'm sure of it."

Margaret sniffled in disbelief: "Might be, but they'll find Vern too, an' then, who tells ya he won't go off again, and leave Tommy before the first buildin' he'll see. Unless Sheriff Simon locks 'im up… But my husband don't deserve t'go t'jail."

"How can you defend him? He took off with your child, going God knows where…"

"He's gone to Denver," Margaret interjected. " At least, I think he has. Last night he came home drunk as a pig, talkin' to 'imself," she related grimly, "'bout an orphanage, 'bout how there were some in Denver that would take in the kid." She blew her nose loudly in the handkerchief Michaela had held out to her. "Never thought he'd go through with it…"

As Margaret brushed her hair out of her face, Michaela spotted a bruise across the woman's cheek. She could not refrain from gasping:

"Oh, God! He hit you, too!"

Margaret turned her head sharply to look at the doctor. The sudden movement made her wince, and Michaela barely had the time to notice the size of her pupils for Margaret rubbed her eyes in an attempt to ease her discomfort. She probably had a concussion. Michaela sighed inwardly with relief that she had not acted on her earlier impulse and administrated a drug that could have been dangerous. She had to insure that Margaret remained conscious so that she could observe any change in her condition.

"When did he hit you?"

"He didn' hit me."

"You don't expect me to believe that you fell down the stairs, do you? Or that you bumped accidentally into his fist…"

"It… it ain't what you think. I was tryin' to keep 'im from takin' our baby away, but he pushed me back and my head hit the nightstand. Was too dizzy to run after him, an' by the time I got to the Slickers', Vernon was long gone… You gotta believe me, my husband never struck me."

"He did push you, obviously quite violently."

"No, just enough for me t' lose my footin', is all. I'm tellin' ya, Vernon's not the hittin' kinda man."

"Margaret, I saw him yesterday fighting with a customer of the Gold Nugget."

"Never knew my husband to use his fists before… Never saw 'im drunk either…" Margaret's voice died down as another wave of tears sprang up. As Michaela was rubbing the woman's back in a soothing motion, her mind was spinning with images of Vernon each time she had seen him. She remembered the look or pure elation in his eyes when he had first held his son, or his loving concern for his wife. How could someone be so caring a minute, then turn around and act so disgracefully the next?… Unbidden, visions of Sully when he had hunted down Rankin, when he had almost killed the injured soldier at Washita, when he and Cloud Dancing, his brother, his best friend, had fought each other, crossed her mind. She shook her head, upset with herself for comparing her husband to Margaret's. Pushing those preposterous notions to the very back of her consciousness, she forced her concentration back to her patient.

"Do you still feel dizzy? Any nausea?"

"My head still hurts, but I'm not as dizzy, or sleepy, as I felt earlier."

"You mentioned that you couldn't get up right away after you hit your head, does it mean that you fainted, or…?"

"No, I remember hearin' the door slammin' shut, and his horse galoppin' away a minute later…"

"Good. Is your vision blurred?" asked Michaela as she waved her forefinger in front of Margaret's eyes.

"'Twas this mornin', but it ain't no longer"

"It's very encouraging. You obviously have a slight concussion, but it appears to be receding already." She probed the injured cheek very carefully, feeling for signs of fracture. Margaret groaned with the pain.

"I'm sorry to hurt you, but I needed to determine whether your cheekbone was broken or not. Fortunately, it isn't. I'm going to give you willow bark tea to ease the pain, and…"

"Willow bark?" Margaret cut in, her nose scrunched up. "What kinda medicine is that?"

"Cheyenne," Michaela answered as calmly as she could. "It would be unwise to give you laudanum now, and I can assure you the tea can be quite effective in your condition, with very few side effects."

"If you say so," mumbled Margaret.

Michaela put the kettle on the stove, then escorted her patient upstairs.

"Here, sit down. I'll be back in a minute"

Michaela was indeed back a short moment later, carrying a small tray. She poured the steaming tea into a cup, which she handed to Margaret.

"I want you to try not to fall asleep for at least two more hours. I'll check on you as often as I can."

"Thanks for your concern." Margaret sipped gingerly on the beverage, puckering her face at the bitter taste. "Ugh, never tasted anythin' that dreadful in my whole life. Can't ya gimme anythin' else?"

"I'd rather not for the time being. Please, try to drink at least that one cup. If you're not feeling better within the next hour, I'll see if I can give you something else, all right?"

Margaret nodded, then with a reluctant sigh, took another sip.

"Call me if you need anything."

As Michaela was about to leave, she heard Margaret mutter, as if to herself: "He wanted our baby so much… so much…"

More disturbed than ever, Michaela went back downstairs, praying that Sully and the others would find Vernon and Thomas. Before stepping into her office, she stopped at the nursery doorstep and blew a kiss to Katie.

"Play, Mama?"

The bell rang again right at that moment. Michaela shrugged helplessly.

"Sorry, Sweetheart, Mama must see her patients right now." Seeing a pout distorting her little girl's mouth, she added: "but as soon as I'm done, I'll come and play with you, promise." Mother and daughter waved to each other, then Michaela rushed to her office to let in Mr. Barlow.

"Mornin' Dr. Mike," the elderly farmer greeted her with a gap-toothed smile.

"Good morning, Mister Barlow. So, how are you today?"

*** * ***

Michaela stirred when she felt a draft and heard the front door click shut.

"Hey…" Sully leant forward to kiss her, then sat on the hassock, moving her feet so that they rested upon his lap. "Told ya not to wait for me."

"I wanted to." She yawned, stretched and rubbed her eyes, compelling herself toward alertness. She gazed at him earnestly. "Please tell me you found and brought back the baby."

Sully caressed her ankles in a reassuring massage. "We did. Caught up with Vernon just as he was ridin' into Denver. It took a lotta persuasion to make 'im turn 'round and follow us back here, but we did it."

"And Thomas?"

"Alive and back where he belongs."

"But how is he?"

"Huh, I'd say not too good. He was breathin' all right, but he never cried, or anythin'. Didn' even drink the milk we found for him. I sent Matthew ahead to fetch Philip an' tell him to meet us at the Tanners'. The baby's in good hands, now."

"What's going to happen to Vernon? Has Daniel put him in jail?

"He was gonna do it, but Margaret came out of nowhere and begged 'im not to, so Daniel let the man go. But he told 'em that if it happened again, he'd make sure Vernon forgot what daylight felt like."

"God…" she whispered in consternation. She yawned again.

"Busy day?"

"Not really. A few patients in the morning, that's all. I was able to prepare my order and give it to Horace."

"Good. But now, it's time for the doc' to go t'bed." He drew her up to her feet and into his arms. "Miss ya," he breathed against her cheek.

As he led her to the staircase, she asked him: "Did you eat?"

"Had somethin' when we stopped for the milk in the afternoon. Don't worry 'bout me."

"But…"

"Eatin' is the last thing I need right now," he interrupted her comment with a kiss that left her without a doubt as to what his needs were. Her cheeks warmed with thorough embarrassment for, unlike Sully's, her amorous mood of the morning had vanished. Unfortunately, Sully seemed to interpret her blushing as a favorable sign, she could tell by the gleam in his eyes that he was anxious to resume their "holdin'". Oh dear, how was she going to get out of that one…

When he stopped by Katie's room, she took advantage of his short absence to undress at speed, throw her nightdress on and crawl into bed. He came in just as she was settling herself in a comfortable position. She almost cursed herself for not being quick enough so that she could have pretended to be asleep. She fidgeted under the covers as she watched him wash and shave out of the corner of her eye, but froze when he crept up on her. His hands groped for and found the hem of her gown, then hitched it up to her waist. She tensed when she felt his fingers slithering between her thighs and around her torso to reach her breast. She had to tell him to stop.

"Playin' hard to get, huh?"

His feather-light touches, usually so efficient at warming her up from the core, tonight only brought out a superficial physical reaction She quivered involuntarily as her body, betraying her once again, responded to his dexterous moves. Maybe that was what she needed: to find oblivion in his embrace. Resignedly, she rolled over and, with a conviction she did not quite feel, wound her arms round his neck and held him closer. For a few minutes she tried to concentrate on the acute, but fleeting sensations that were coursing on her skin. Yet, each time she was able to relax enough to revel in his caresses, one of the thoughts she had ruminated almost all day would flash through her mind, causing any agreeable feeling to evanesce like a mirage.

Predictably enough, Sully paused in his ministrations. "Hey, what's wrong?"

What was she supposed to answer? How could she tell him what was on her mind, since she knew her misgivings were not founded… Were they?…

"Ya ain't with me…"

"Of course I am," she countered numbly, knowing hot flat and unconvincing her protest would sound to her husband's ears. She could sense his eyes searching hers, but she could not meet his gaze, she could not let him read the doubts that were written in hers.

"It's just… I'm just…" She could not think of a plausible excuse.

"You all right? Is it the baby?" He ran his hand over her belly tenderly. Possessively. _He wanted our baby so much_, an evil voice whispered in her ear. She shook her head.

"No… no, we're both fine." She snuggled up to him, and hoped he would not take her lack of enthusiasm as an affront. "I'm sorry."

"Nah, I am. Shoulda seen ya were too tired…"

Michaela closed her eyes and mouth, fighting the urge to tell him that her fatigue was not what was bothering her the most. Mingled with Margaret's comments and her jumbled memories of the few occasions when Sully's behavior had shocked or disturbed her, a faint echo of the promises they had made to each other a few months before resounded in her mind.

"But you shoulda told me ya didn' feel up to it, remember we promised to tell each other when somethin's wrong." As it had happened so often since they had met, Sully's thoughts were mirroring her own, yet she could not bring herself to confess hers. She would only hurt him with what he would be sure to take as a lack of trust. _Coward_, she accused herself.

"I honestly thought I did, Sully, I'm really sorry it didn't work out," was all she could say as she buried her face in his neck.

"It's all right. Let's get some sleep, we're all tired."

When he kissed her goodnight and assisted her to turn onto her side, she perceived his frustration through his touch, even through the air around them, reverberating like a silent complaint. Once she was settled back in the position she favored the most at night, she let fall the tears she had held tightly in check for the past few minutes, until her exhaustion overpowered her discomposure and she finally slept.

*** * ***

"… Then it's settled. Dr. Mike, Philip, we all trust you to find us a good doc. Huh… I reckon that's all for tonight, folks. Meetin's adjourned!" As soon as Jake had banged his gavel, the crowd of attendants rose and poured out of the church

Michaela sighed with relief. The session had run smoothly: the date for the next council election had been set and no one had made objections at the prospect of hiring another physician. Of course there had been a few comments that they would better check that the new doc was a man, remarks that all council members, as well as Philip and Michaela's closest friends had fully expected.

As she was about to follow Matthew outside, Philip caught up with her.

"I propose that we start making inquiries by Monday. I already have in mind the names of some persons who could be interested. What about you?"

"I'm in touch with several doctors all over the territory and with others back East. I don't think any of them would actually come here, but they might know some colleagues who would be willing…"

"Good. Let's meet at Grace's for lunch on Monday, to draw up a list of people we may contact."

"Agreed… Well, I suppose we'll see you at service on Sunday. Goodnight, Philip."

"Goodnight. And try to rest."

Michaela rolled her eyes. _Easier said than done_, she groused to herself. She wanted nothing more than to lie down and sleep for a week, but… _Forget it_.

"Sully's not with ya?" Dorothy inquired as she appeared at her side.

"No. Katie has been fractious lately, so we thought it would be better if he stayed home with the children."

"Does he know 'bout that new doc'?"

"Of course, why wouldn't he?"

"Are you two all right?" she asked out of the blue.

Michaela looked askance at her best friend. "We are perfectly fine, Dorothy." _Why does she ask me such a question_, she wondered, baffled.

"Last time I saw that look on your face, ya were both so perfectly fine that ya couldn't even look each other in the eye."

"I'm afraid you're mistaken this time. I'm exhausted, that's all. It's been a long day." _It's been a __long week… a long month… a long winter_. A long year.

"Matthew's waiting for me. I'll see you tomorrow. Goodnight."

"Night, Michaela. Get some rest."

Michaela let out an exasperated sigh, but waved politely to the older woman. Dorothy, like Philip, meant well, after all. But why on earth would her friend assume that she did not get along with Sully? She had not told a soul that she had not been able to give herself to her husband that other night… Besides, although they had not been intimate since then, they had remained affectionate toward each other. Nothing like the increasingly affected civility of the past summer. She shook her head to chase the memory of those troubled times out of her mind. She only wanted to think about her family, her baby, and her career.

She plastered a serene expression on her face for Matthew's benefit when she reached the wagon. The last thing she needed was another comment about how unwell she looked. He helped her onto the seat and soon they were heading for the homestead.


	8. Act V

**v**

Michaela slowly opened her eyes. The grayish tinge of daylight indicated that it was still very early. All was quiet in the house.

The baby kicked once again, prompting a sleepy smile to its mother's lips. If only she had that kind of energy! But right at that moment, she only felt deeply lethargic, nestled comfortably under the warm covers with her husband spooned tenderly against her back. She actually felt more rested than she had for some time: her workload had lessened somewhat during the last two weeks, enabling her to snatch a few hours of extra sleep during the day.

A light stroke on her belly told her that Sully also was awake.

"Mornin'," he breathed against the back of her neck, stirring a few locks of her night-tangled hair and tickling her skin softly.

"Good morning," she replied as she cuddled closer to him.

"Baby woke ya?"

"Mmmh, our little one is rather active this morning…"

"Is she? Let's get a look at that…"

_She?_…Before she had time to wonder further about his choice of word, he had thrown back the bed-clothes and helped her onto her back. He bunched her nightgown up to expose her swollen abdomen and leant forward to place a delicate kiss on her bulging navel. A smile teased the corners of Michaela's lips as she observed his maneuver, and she grinned openly when, rubbing ever so gently his stubbled cheek on the taut and sensitive skin of her belly, he whispered: "Knock, knock!"

The baby did not react, prompting Michaela to comment: "He's upset because you mistake him for a girl."

"Nope, it's 'cause I didn' talk loud enough, he couldna heard me…"

Just at that moment, the baby moved again, causing the stretched skin that protected it to ripple.

"See? You said _he_ and he kicked."

"So you're a boy, huh?" Sully asked softly, his lips pressed against her belly. He was rewarded by another movement, this time more pronounced. Delighted wonder made the blue of his eyes shimmer like the sea under a summer sun.

Seeing her husband in complete awe of the phenomenon eased somehow Michaela's previous trepidation. She realized that, even if Sully's behavior had sometimes been questionable, he would never have given up someone as innocent and vulnerable as a child, alone and defenseless. Sully would never have considered an ailment such as Thomas' like an infamy he should erase from his life at all costs. She knew him well enough, how could she have doubted him? She reached down to run her fingers into his hair. Her touch made him look up and when their eyes met and locked, he smiled that little grin she loved so much, the one that told her he was content with their life. She smiled back at him, her heart swelling with her love for him. Although she had not asked him anything, he must have sensed somehow what she needed; he slid up to oblige and gave her the softest kiss. When he pulled back, he gazed intently into her eyes.

"Big day today," he reminded her. "Nervous?"

She almost answered no, but she knew Sully would see through her dissembling and guess she was not as confident as she wanted everyone to think.

"A little," she admitted at last in a low tone. He answered by threading his fingers with hers, his eyebrows raised expectantly as if he was waiting for her to elaborate.

"I trust Philip when he says that Dr. Bowen is a highly competent physician, caring and disinterested…"

"So what? D'ya think your patients will keep up seein' him when you go back to the Clinic, that you're gonna lose them?"

Michaela lowered her eyes. "I know it's silly… Yet it almost happened with Andrew, and he was just out of medical school. Dr. Bowen is much more experienced."

"Yep, but folks soon found out you were still the best doc' 'round here. You'll keep your patients, Michaela, an' you'll get lots more of 'em, I'm sure of it."

Again Michaela felt awash with her love for him. "Thank you," she breathed. To convey more eloquently her appreciation of his faith in her, she brought his lips to hers and kissed him soundly, endlessly, her body and mind awakening fully at last. When she finally pulled back to catch her breath, she caught a look of surprise mixed with longing on his face, to which she replied with a smoldering gaze and a flirtatious smile. Sully took in her impassioned mood immediately, but before acceding to her mute yet unequivocal invitation, he asked huskily:

"Ya sure? We haven't in…"

Her smile grew wider as she finished his sentence: "…in far too long, so I think it's high time we made up for lost time… don't you?"

He chuckled softly at her innuendo. "I appreciate your enthusiasm…"

Some time later, as rays of the rising sun were tracing lacy patches of light on the quilt, Michaela stroked absent-mindedly Sully's hair as he was drifting off into a satiated sleep, his face buried in her neck, while she remained wide awake. Her previous anxiety had resurged, but she could no longer pinpoint where it came from. Somehow she sensed it was not actually related to Dr. Bowen's impending arrival and its potential consequences, and now that she had convinced herself that Sully would never behave like Mr. Tanner, then what? Why was she still feeling so restless?… She tightened her hold onto her husband's shoulders: she would let him sleep for another hour or so, and then they would face what may come together.

*** * ***

"There he is!" Philip exclaimed.

Michaela squinted as she tried to make out the features of their future colleague in the clouds of smoke that came from the hissing engine. He was assisting a woman down the train, shouting something at her no one could hear over the frenetic hubbub at the depot. She studied the pair as they strolled toward Philip: two Easterners, conventionally dressed; the man was slightly taller than Sully but not as strongly built… her cheeks warmed a little as she compared the newcomer with her husband.

"Mortimer! You haven't changed a bit, lad!"

"Neither have you, Dr. Munroe. Glad to see you again." The two men shook hands warmly, before Mortimer Bowen turned toward her, politely taking off his hat and offering his hand straightforwardly.

"You must be Dr. Quinn. How do you do?"

"How do you do," Michaela echoed with her most welcoming smile, taking the proffered hand. His hold was gentle but secure, his countenance confident and friendly. She had to admit that he was quite handsome as well: he had large, strikingly clear green-blue eyes, a thin, straight nose and proud chin, and his dark hair tumbled in waves onto his wide forehead; a dimple at one corner of his mouth gave his physiognomy a touch of good-natured irony. No doubt he would catch the eyes of many ladies in town.

Dr. Bowen stepped aside: "This is my fiancée, Lucy McRae. Lucy, these are Dr. Michaela Quinn and Dr. Philip Munroe," he introduced as he drew forward his female companion, whose dollish face blushed crimson as she shyly nodded in acknowledgment. Michaela smiled reassuringly at the young woman.

"People around here call me Dr. Mike. Welcome to Colorado Springs," she said brightly, wishing to put Miss McRae a little more at ease. But Michaela's friendliness did not have the expected result for Lucy only shrank back and remained demurely behind her fiancé. Disappointed, Michaela told herself she would try again to break through the younger woman's reserve.

"How about I help you carry your things to the boarding house, Mortimer, while the ladies go to Grace's and have a cup before we meet them for lunch?" offered Philip.

It seemed that Philip had noticed Lucy's reticence too. Michaela exchanged a look of connivance with him, then took the other woman's arm with authority, stirring her away from the depot. On the way to the Café, she tried to make small talk, inquiring about Lucy's background, only to obtain monosyllabic, barely audible answers. Michaela was starting to wonder about Lucy's state of mind: such an excessive shyness certainly could not be natural. How would she react, then, when she met the townfolks?

The lunch rush had abated, so Grace was able to stop and chat for a minute, although Lucy did not warm up to her either, even pushed discreetly her cup of coffee aside. Now Michaela hoped the men would join them soon, because she had run out of things to say! Maybe Lucy would feel more comfortable once her fiancé would be here…

While she was conversing with her colleagues about their futures arrangements, Michaela kept casting surreptitious glances to Lucy, who had barely touched her blanquette. Her previously flushed face was now ashen. Realization dawned on Michaela and she cursed herself for not recognizing the obvious: the poor thing was certainly sick from the train ride, but felt too embarrassed to admit it. Michaela wriggled awkwardly to get her medical bag from under her seat, fished out the small sachet she was looking for, making sure there was paregoric too, just in case. She waved at the nearest waitress, asking her for a cup of hot water.

"Are you feeling all right, Michaela?" asked Philip solicitously.

She nodded briefly, busy with her preparation. She watched as the plants infused, then handed the cup to Lucy. "Here, drink this, it'll make you feel better."

"What's that?" questioned Mortimer, pointing at the small bag of herbs.

Michaela searched for disdain or wariness in his expression, but discerned only curiosity. "Clove," was her concise answer.

"Clove? You…" Mortimer studied his fiancée's complexion for a few seconds. "Gosh! What's wrong, Sweetheart? Feeling poorly?"

Humiliation brought twin spots of red onto Lucy's pale cheeks and tears to her eyes. Her gaze fell to the cup in her trembling hands. In a split second, Mortimer rose from his chair, almost upsetting the table, and came around to crouch next to his fiancée.

"You should have said something, Lu," he reproached softly. "Drink." He looked up and met Michaela's eyes. He gave her a disenchanted smile. "Some doctor I am…"

Michaela smiled back in commiseration. She could hardly blame him, since there had been times when she had missed that kind of things, until someone would point them out to her, like when Sully had suffered from megrim or, right before her wedding, when Marjorie had contracted a venereal disease from her adulterous husband… Michaela swallowed hard the lump that had been forming in her throat with the memory of her sister and focused again on her newest patient. "How are you feeling?"

"A little better, thank you," Lucy answered softly.

"I'd better get you to the boarding house, so you can lie down," suggested Mortimer. Lucy acquiesced with a small nod, excused herself to Michaela and Philip and stood up somewhat shakily to follow Mortimer, who had slipped his arm round her waist for support.

"Never one to miss anything, are you?" chuckled Philip.

"Quite the contrary, believe me…"

"What I can't believe is that neither Mortimer nor I saw that the poor girl was feeling so unwell!"

"We often miss what's right under our noses. Besides, you were getting re-acquainted with your protégé," she pointed out indulgently.

"What do you think of him?"

"He's just like you told me, and he seems quite open-minded too…"

Her remark made Philip laugh heartily: "Back when he was still in medical school, he would get into trouble every so often because of that, challenging his seniors' old ways, willing to make experiments, no matter how controversial, as long as he thought it made sense. I'm sure you two will get along just fine."

"He doesn't appear to be adverse to the idea of woman practicing medicine and using herbal remedies, at least."

"Mortimer respects too much his fellow human beings, no matter their age, gender or color, to even think that a female physician can't be as competent as a male."

"He's taken after you in that regard, then."

Philip smiled at the compliment: "I'm afraid I can't take the credit for that. I only had him under my wing for a few short weeks, and then, he was much more a partner than a student to me…"

"So you told me. I'm looking forward to our collaboration."

"That's it, exactly. It's going to be teamwork," Philip stressed in his most assertive tone.

"Who are you trying to convince, Philip?" she glanced at him, eyebrows raised. "If I didn't know any better, I'd think you're the one who fears that Mortimer might take over your practice," she teased. Their eyes met and they burst into laughter.

*** * ***

"There… done…"

Dr. Bowen sighed with satisfaction as he tied the last stitch on a nasty gash inflicted by a saw on Jim Driscoll's thigh.

"How many cuts and other lacerations did we sew up these last two weeks?"

"I lost count long ago," Michaela admitted wryly as she sprayed the sutured wound with carbolic acid one last time. "I'm afraid we're going to see many more of these during the coming days. With the population explosion we've been experiencing since last summer, the town is in dire need of improvements. Why, next week, they'll start building the new schoolhouse, as soon as they finish expanding the church…"

"Speaking of new buildings, your husband showed me the blueprints he drew for my future clinic. I must say that I'm impressed: he is very talented."

Michaela smiled warmly at her colleague, pleased by the compliment to Sully. "You don't have to tell me that. Our home is the perfect proof of his talent."

"Indeed it is," he agreed. He scrubbed the blood off his hands energetically, then toweled them dry, observing Michaela meticulously dressing the cicatrix.

"There's something I've been meaning to ask you ever since I started working with you…" Mortimer began.

"What is it?"

"How did you manage when you had to perform major operations when you were the only physician available?"

"Well… from the beginning, I had Colleen with me, of course… and when she wasn't available, there always was someone in town willing to help, Grace, Dorothy, even Jake or Hank!"

"Hank?"

"Huh uh, he assisted me once, when I had to remove Horace's appendix… Actually a lot of people in Colorado Springs have lent me a hand sometime…"

Mortimer frowned: "I mean no disrespect, but isn't it risky to let unqualified people handle potentially dangerous drugs and utensils?"

It was Michaela's turn to scowl, slightly offended for her friends who had generously offered their assistance, but she understood the younger physician's concern.

"The townspeople may not be qualified by academic standards, but I never had to worry for they had always followed my instructions."

"I'm sure they did. But have you ever thought of hiring a professional?"

"A nurse, you mean?"

Mortimer nodded.

"I've dreamed about it, even considered it seriously once or twice, but I could have never afforded paying someone permanently," Michaela explained in a rueful tone.

"I understand. What would you think if…"

Urgent knocking interrupted his suggestion. He opened the door, revealing a distraught and sweating Margaret, her son in her arms. Michaela immediately registered the baby's stillness.

"Dr. Quinn? Please, help me…"

"Mrs. Tanner! Please come in."

Mortimer stepped back to let the woman in, nodding politely in greeting. Margaret nodded back shyly.

"Mrs. Tanner, this is Dr. Bowen. Mortimer, this is Margaret Tanner, and her son Thomas."

Michaela voluntarily made the introductions short: from Margaret's aspect, she surmised that the poor woman had come from the farm on foot, and she would have never walked all the way with her child in her arms if it had not been serious. Michaela flashed a glance at Mortimer, mutely signaling him that she was leaving their still sleeping patient into his care, while she took charge of Margaret and Thomas, whom she led to one of the recovery rooms. Without further ado, she took the infant from Margaret, lay him on the bed and unfolded the blanket he was swaddled in. Little Thomas' state made her heart constrict with sorrow: the poor child's lips were blue, his fingertips a ghostly white, and his breathing was shallow and wheezing. He was also distressingly thin, hinting at a lack of proper nourishment. She instinctively knew that Margaret wasn't to blame for that. Given Thomas' depleted condition, one could easily guess that the baby had not eaten much for some time; if she remembered correctly, when Sully had come back from the search party, he had mentioned that Thomas had not drunk the milk he had been given, and it had happened five weeks before!

"How long has he been like this?" Michaela asked gently.

"A few days, a week, maybe…" Before Michaela could voice her consternation, Margaret added: "I kept pesterin' Vern about fetchin' a doc, but he wouldn't do it, sayin' it was useless…"

"Then why didn't you ask the Slickers for help?"

Margaret hung down her head and replied in a barely audible, choked whisper: "They'd better not be seen with the likes of us…"

"How can you say that?" Michaela admonished softly. "They care about your welfare, for the three of you…" She sighed, knowing it was pointless to argue about such a matter now.

"Please," Margaret implored brokenly, "please, help my son… my baby…" Now crying openly, and desperately, she sank to her knees at the bedside, her hand cupping her child's small head.

Michaela, her eyes tearing as well, placed a comforting hand on the young woman's shoulder. "I'll try my very best," she pledge.

*** * ***

A light touch to her back roused Michaela from her drowsy state. She had nodded off while perusing for the umpteenth time her medical books, in search of an answer, of anything that might give her a clue about what to do…

"Time to go home, Michaela," Sully stated.

"I can't, Sully. I can't leave now."

"Whatever it is, Doc Bowen can handle it."

"Where is he?"

"Upstairs, with Margaret." He crouched down next to her chair, in that attentive attitude he was used to having when he was listening to her doubts, or her aspirations, sometimes to her fears.

"You know…" It was not a question.

Sully merely shrugged.

"Oh, Sully… Thomas is dying, and there's nothing we can do to prevent that… Why does this have to happen, why?" Fresh tears trickled down her cheeks unchecked, until Sully reached out and lightly dabbed at them with his fingertips.

"Sometimes, bad things happen, for no reason at all. You outta know that better than anyone…"

"I know, and you're right, of course. It's just…"

"Michaela, I wish ya could do somethin', too," he completed her thoughts. "I really do, but you said it yourself, nothin' anybody can do. There's no point in ya stayin' here any longer." He patted her belly meaningfully.

Interlocking her fingers with his, she shook her head. "I just can't leave, Sully. I might not be able to help Thomas medically speaking, but I can offer my support to Margaret as a woman, and as a mother. It's the least I can do."

Sully shifted his gaze to their linked hands resting on her belly. His mouth twitched and twisted but he did not utter a word.

"What's on you mind?"

Sully looked up again, still silent.

"Sully? Tell me what's bothering you…"

"I understand ya wantin' t' stay here with Margaret," he finally spoke, "an' I wouldn't say anythin' if…"

"If what?"

"If you weren't pregnant."

Michaela opened her mouth to protest, but he cut her off: "You need to rest, and I reckon the whole thing upsets ya more than ya let on. All this worryin' ain't good for you and the baby."

Again she tried to place a word, and again he would not let her. "Hear me out. I know better than tellin' you what to do. If you really want to stay, then stay. But promise me you're gonna lie down and try to sleep, and that you'll send for me if ya need anythin'. Promise?"

"I promise… Actually, I need you to do something."

"Sure, what is it?"

"Find Vernon, and bring him in."

"You're right, he should be here. I'll try the Nugget first, then head to the farm, if I can't find 'im there."

Michaela stood up, rubbing her lower back to ease the seemingly perpetual stiffness.

"Here, let me help ya upstairs," Sully offered, winding his arm around her waist. Michaela almost protested, but she had to admit that his loving care was wonderfully comforting, as if his arm was acting like a barrier against her concerns. She relaxed against him as they slowly ascended the stairs. A soft humming broken with faint sobs could be heard coming from the room Margaret and Thomas were settled in. As they reached the top step, they saw Mortimer's head poke out, a gloomy expression on his face. No words were required. Sully took off in search of Vernon, followed by Mortimer, while Michaela went inside.

Margaret was perched on the edge of the bed, rocking back and forth her son, in a dazed motion. Her cheeks were stained with the tracks of dried tears as well as fresh ones, and her eyes were staring fixedly, almost soullessly, ahead. Michaela sat next to her and tentatively put her arm around the distressed mother's shoulders. Margaret did not react, apparently oblivious of everything around her. After a few minutes, though, she stopped in her humming, letting the ominous rasp of Thomas' labored breathing fill the air.

They heard the clock downstairs striking seven, and then, nothing but a suffocating silence. Discreetly Michaela slipped her hand under the blanket, her fingers checking the baby's armpit for a pulse she knew would not be there any more. She swallowed the tears which were welling up anew, determined to remain strong for Margaret's sake. She could only tighten her embrace, conveying silently her sympathy and her support, knowing words would be of no comfort to the grieving mother. Even though Margaret did not emit a sound, Michaela could tell that she was well aware of her son's death, for she had stopped her rocking and was now pressing the tiny body convulsively to her bosom.

Heavy footsteps in the staircase heralded the return of the men. Mortimer was the first to come in, followed closely by Sully dragging an inebriated Vernon. Michaela looked on in disgust and pity as the man made his staggering way to his wife. Margaret glanced up at him balefully before returning her gaze to the lifeless form in her arms.

"He's dead… ain't he?" Vernon whispered.

"Yes," Michaela answered, keeping her voice low as well. "I'm sorry."

"Better this way… for everybody." He took advantage of the stunning effect his comment had on everyone to stumble out of the room. By the time Margaret registered her husband's departure and called out to him, it was too late. She finally burst into loud, gut-wrenching sobs, leaning heavily against Michaela, who could no longer hold back her own tears either, tears of mourning, as well as tears of fear, and anger. And, most of all guilt: nothing she had said or done had been enough to prevent that tragedy…

Eventually, Margaret departed with the Slickers, who had offered to take care of everything, Jake promising to try and talk some sense into his neighbor. But, just as Margaret would be haunted by the ghost of her lost child for a long time, Michaela felt that herself would never forget the Tanners, and all that had happened during the course of the three months of Thomas' short life.

Vernon's last comment kept resounding in her mind, long after Sully had taken her home, and late into the night… "Better this way…" _For whom?_


	9. Act VI

**vi**

Thomas' funeral took place early the very next morning, in the strictest privacy. When she came into town, Michaela caught sight of the small group of mourners in the churchyard; she recognized the Slickers and Margaret, but Vernon was nowhere to be seen. Her heart sank as she was again overwhelmed by helplessness. She could only send a silent bur fervent prayer to the Heavens, wishing an eternal and peaceful rest to the little soul, and an eventual acceptance of its loss to the parents…

The weeks that followed saw Michaela spending every ounce of her energy in ensuring that Mortimer was adjusting to her patients and the way she had conducted her practice so far, while getting ready for the delivery. Every so often, Sully, and sometimes Philip, would tell her to stop fussing and sit down to rest. In the back of her mind, she knew they were right, and she had a strong foreboding that all her lists and precautions would prove useless in the end. But she had to keep bustling around, in order to quell her mounting apprehension. Katie's third birthday and their fourth wedding anniversary, two days later, provided her with welcome, joyful distractions, unfortunately over much to soon.

As her due date drew dangerously closer, there was still a matter, a very important one, left to be taken care of. The first evening of summer, the air was deliciously warm, so Michaela lingered under the porch, swaying slowly back and forth in the rocking chair, while Sully was putting Katie to bed. Brian was stretched under the oak, engrossed in Swift's _Gulliver's Travels_. When her husband came back a few minutes later, she suddenly felt that it was just the right moment to broach the subject. She stopped her rocking and looked up into his eyes earnestly. "Sully?"

"Need somethin'?"

_Always the helpful and caring one_, she smiled to herself. "Yes, I need us to do something…" she went on out loud.

He squatted down at her feet, enclosing her hands within the cocoon of his large, strong ones. "What is it?"

"Have you thought of a name for the baby?"

His mildly puzzled expression told her that he had not. "Not really. Always thought we had all the time in the world fer that," he answered with a small shrug.

"That's what we thought for Katie, too… Remember what happened when we realized we hadn't picked out a definite name for her. I don't want to go through such a brain-racking experience again when I'm in labor…"

His eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What ya gettin' at?" You tellin' me the baby might come early, like Kates?"

"It might, yes… But not right this minute," she placated him as he was about to spring up from his crouched position in panic.

He relaxed a little, bringing her hands to his lips.

"I reckon now's a good time to think 'bout it, don't ya?"

The corner of her mouth flew upward and her eyes twinkled: "Now is the perfect time."

"Got any idea?"

"Some… Boy names, mostly…"

"Which are?" he pressed.

The temptation was too strong to resist. She steeled her features into a mask of prim seriousness and announced: "Byron Ezra."

Sully was quick to splutter in indignation: "Yeah, and why not 'Watering Can'? Or maybe ya'd like 'Chamber Pot' better… Ain't those fine soundin' names, too, huh?"

"Ooh… Don't you like Byron Ezzzzraaaa?" she teased relentlessly, fighting the laughter that was bubbling in her throat.

As hard as he tried to appear angry, Sully was also having some trouble concealing his mirth. The small giggle that Michaela let out was infectious and soon they were both shaking with laughter. At last, Michaela composed herself enough to lean forward a little and cup his cheek.

"I love to laugh with you."

"Same here," he rejoined, branding an adoring kiss in her palm.

"What about you? Any suggestion?"

Sully sobered down and squeezed her hand gently.

"Joseph… after your Pa."

Michaela was speechless: no word in the English language could have expressed adequately the wealth of emotions she felt right at that moment...

"I wish you had met him, Sully," she eventually said wistfully.

"Would've loved to. See, namin' our child after him is my way of thankin' him for makin' ya the way you are."

Michaela was definitely moved to tears. She made to cup his face again, but he stopped her, taking hold of her wrists.

"Ya sure ya ain't goin' into labor, huh?"

"What? No, absolutely not. Why?" She stared at him, taken aback.

"Don't want ya to tear at my face again," he explained in a teasing tone. Both chuckled at the memory of that moment, while giving birth to their daughter in the woods, when she had nearly ripped off her husband's cheeks. It was debatable which one had suffered the most during the contraction!

"What if it's a girl?"

"Thought ya were sure it's gonna be a boy."

"Well, we might have another girl yet, so we better have a name ready for her, don't you think? I thought for a while of Charlotte, but one of the children might want to use it."

"Right. Let's say Josephine, then."

Michaela pondered Sully's insistence that they used her father's name for a moment. But before she could voice her opinion, Sully spoke up again: "See, we named our first child after our Mas, so it's only fittin' to name the second after your Pa, no matter its gender."

His comment prompted her to inquire: "What about your father, Sully? We should use his name too…" She instantly regretted her question when she saw a flash of hurt flicker in his eyes. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have…"

Sully swallowed hard, but he gave her hand a gentle pat, reassuring her that he was not angry at her.

"It's all right Michaela. It's just… I just don't remember him at all. And with my brother not much older 'n me, he didn't remember our pa either. One thing I know is that Willy was named after 'im ."

Tentatively, she suggested: "Well, what do you say if we use William as our baby's middle name? This way we'll be honoring both your father and brother… They were, they are a part of you, and I love all of you," she finished in a loving whisper.

It was Sully's turn to shed a tear. Whenever he opened up to her about his family, she saw a heart-wrenching distress in his eyes, the kind of which made her want to hold him close and console him forever, making up for all the tragedies he'd been through. She reached out again, and this time Sully went willingly into her arms. She heard him whisper against her hair: "Thank you." She only stroked his shoulder as an answer.

Finally, he pulled away and sat back on his heels. He was smiling, albeit a little sadly, and his voice held a slight catch when he spoke: "Joseph William sounds good, but not Josephine William. I don't know no feminine for Will… Do ya?"

"I think it does exist… Wilhelmina, if I remember correctly."

Sully's brow furrowed somewhat at the foreign-sounding name, yet he did not object, only shrugged in acceptance. "It'll do. Just a middle name, after all."

"You're right, but we must admit that Josephine Wilhelmina is quite a mouthful, isn't it?"

"Yeah, even worse than Katherine Elizabeth…"

Sully's remark prompted them to chortle once again.

"Bedtime now, for both of ya," he said with tender authority.

"Yes, Sir," she complied, standing up with his support, only to find herself trapped in his arms and locked in a slow, appreciative kiss. He did not release her until they were both breathless; so absorbed they were with each other that they barely remember to call out to Brian before getting inside…

Their light-hearted conversation, in spite of the few emotional moments, had a surprisingly soothing effect on Michaela's disquiet: that night, she slept soundly and dreamlessly, the physical discomfort that came with the last stages of pregnancy forgotten for the time being.

*** * ***

A few days later, Michaela had insisted to go into town with Sully, when he had headed off to work at the new Clinic, stating that she was getting sick of being cooped up at the homestead. Winsomely, she entreated him to join her for lunch at Grace's. Unable to resist her seductive smile and invitation, he relented.

She spent a pleasant morning shopping at the mercantile, visiting with Dorothy, chatting amiably with some of her patients… Katie trotted on her mother's heels, but soon grew tired of being dragged along and began to whine softly. Since there were still a good hour left before lunchtime, Michaela led the way to the Clinic, confident that Mortimer would not mind that they occupied the nursery for a little while.

On the door was pinned a note which indicated that Dr. Bowen had gone on rounds and any emergency would be taken care of by Dr. Munroe… Out of habit, Michaela reached into her pocket for her key. Though she had not set foot in town for more than a week, she kept putting the key of the Clinic in her pocket every morning… That was one old habit she was not about to give up!

Inside, Katie made a bee-line for her room and her toys, while Michaela observed the familiar surroundings. At first sight, her office appeared neat and tidy, but to her watchful eyes, it was not clean enough. Without pausing to think, she rolled up her sleeves determinedly and proceeded with a careful dusting of the furniture.

A long whistling sound heralded the noon train just as the clock above the file cabinet struck twelve. Since she was not supposed to meet Sully until another half an hour, she still had time to clean a few windowpanes… She was about to climb on a chair to remove the curtains when a knock at the door brought her up short.

"Come in."

A woman, dressed in a traveling outfit, two huge carpetbags at her feet, stepped in. "Good day, Ma'am. I'm looking for Dr. Bowen."

"He hasn't come back yet. But if you're feeling unwell, maybe I can help you. I'm Dr. Michaela Quinn."

The stranger's greenish gray eyes widened. "You are Dr. Quinn?" She broke into a delighted smile and stammered: "It's… it's such… It's a great honor to meet you!" She shook eagerly the hand a dumbfounded Michaela was proffering. "The first female physician ever accepted in the American Medical Society. There are so many of us who admire you!"

"Us?" Who was this woman, and what was she talking about?

The woman's smile fell suddenly and she colored slightly in confusion. "Where are my manners?" she mumbled. "I'm Eileen Kingsley," she introduced herself, her tone and raised eyebrows indicating that the doctor was supposed to have heard about her. But for the life of her, Michaela could not remember Mortimer ever mentioning that he was expecting anyone by that name, nor by any other name for that matter. Yet, she had not seen him for days and, besides, she was not even supposed to be at the Clinic at all.

"I'm sorry, Dr. Bowen didn't tell me about any appointment he might have."

"I'm not here for an appointment. In fact, I decided to accept his proposal, so here I am!"

"Beg your pardon?" Proposal? Wasn't Mortimer already engaged to Lucy? Utterly nonplussed, Michaela waited for the newcomer's explanations.

"I'm sorry. What you must think of me…? None of this must make any sense to you. I thought Mort… Dr. Bowen would have told you, since you both work here…"

Her near slip of tongue did not get past Michaela, making her wonder just how familiar those two were.

"A few weeks ago I received a telegram from him, asking me if I'd be interested to work with him again," Eileen elaborated.

"Work? Again?" Michaela probed, more intrigued by the minute.

"Didn't he even tell you that he was looking for a nurse to assist him?"

Relieved that the situation was far from being as scabrous as she originally feared, Michaela smiled at last. "No, he didn't tell me. Truth is, I haven't seen much of him these last two weeks, since I haven't been in the Clinic in a while…"

"And by the look of you, you shouldn't be here now either, unless you…" Eileen's gaze roamed the room, taking in the pal of soapy water, the scrub and the dust cloth. "When is your baby due?" she asked with obviously faked casualness.

"Next week…" Michaela answered hesitantly, unsure of what to make of the woman's half smile…

"Mama!" Katie interrupted the awkward encounter as she rushed in her mother's office. "Mama, me hungwy!"

"Katherine Sully, where are your manners? Say hello to the lady."

Katie craned her neck to look up at the new face. "'Lo!"

"She's a darling," complimented Eileen, flattering Michaela's motherly pride. She squatted down and smiled at the little girl. "Hello, there. So you're hungry? Is your tummy growling?"

Katie nodded vigorously and held up her rag doll: "Dolly too!"

"Ooh, then we'd better hurry and get you girls at the Café!" suggested Michaela.

Katie clapped her hands and giggled in delight, loving the prospect of visiting with her godmother and eating whatever treats that would be on the menu.

Michaela hastily put away her cleaning material then, with Katie's hand clasped securely in her own, she turned back to Eileen: "What don't you join us for lunch, you could tell me more about your former collaboration with Dr. Bowen.… We can leave your luggage here, along with a note to let him know you've arrived."

"This is a wonderful idea! I must confess that I'm starving…"

As the threesome slowly made their way to the Café, Eileen began telling how she and Mortimer had met and befriended during his last year of internship in Chicago. Michaela did not pay much attention, distracted by the numerous stares they were receiving. The streets of Colorado Springs were rather crowded at this time of day, and she was acutely conscious of the gawking looks directed at Eileen, who did not seem to be afflicted or embarrassed in the least, and chatted on.

At the Café, many males, even married ones, continued to goggle and gape. It must be said that Eileen Kingsley was a very attractive woman: her severe apparel did little to conceal her shapely silhouette; her smile and laughter were infectious, her vitality and wit compelling, and the casual way in which her strawberry-blond curls were pinned under her traveling hat gave her an altogether youthful appearance, to the point that Michaela could not help but feel self-conscious of her own bloated figure, her shapeless clothing and her overall worn out aspect… To her relief, when Sully joined them, he merely nodded politely to Eileen and, upon seeing that the woman would not lack of attention between Hank, the Reverend, Loren and a few others who had been bold enough to gather around the table and introduce themselves, he excused his wife, then himself, hoisted Katie up in his arms, and stirred his girls away from the growing crowd.

"Sully, it's neither polite nor proper to leave her alone with all these men," Michaela reproached him.

"Michaela, she's a grown woman, she can take care of herself. And it ain't like somethin' might happen, here, in broad daylight. I wouldn't worry too much, if I were you."

As they sat at a small, more secluded table, Michaela spotted Mortimer out of the corner of her eye. He was gallantly kissing Eileen's hand, with a delighted smile across his face… Slightly miffed, she turned her attention back to her husband, deciding that the dynamics between those two was none of her business.

*** * ***

Michaela rose from the bed for an umpteenth trip to the privy, as she had done the previous two nights. Her patience was wearing thin with lack of sleep, lack of mobility… She wondered how she was going to manage another week like that. As much as she tried to reason with herself that her present state was perfectly normal and expected, it was of very little comfort at quarter to three in the morning, when she had not had a blink of sleep all night.

She slowly made her way to the commode, lips pressed tightly together against the groans and moans caused by the steady stabbing pain in her lower back. Even Sully's tender care the previous evening had not had its usual soothing effect. Once she had answered Nature's call, she felt another trickle, one she had no control over … Her eyes widened as comprehension dawned on her: her water had broken and the persistent pain she had been experiencing since supper had been, in fact, the preliminary stage of labor. To confirm her diagnosis, her abdomen suddenly tightened with the first contraction. It had begun…

As the tension in her womb eased, her heart started beating erratically_: it's too soon, I'm not prepared, it can't happen now_, she repeated herself. The small voice of reason that kept telling her that there was nothing to do but endure the pain and bring forth the much-wanted child was fighting hard against the utter terror that gripped her throat and made her almost choke. _What if the baby is… what if it isn't…?_ Her mind spiraled out of control with its maddening self questioning. _What if I can't…_Her imagination was conjuring up nightmarish visions, so much worse than what she had dreamt about before Katie's birth. What little remained of her supper churned sickeningly in her compressed stomach and she could not help but throw it up.

_Don't do this… don't do this to yourself…_ Finally, what remained of her rationality won out. She took a few deep, cleansing breaths. She needed to stay in control, keep a clear head.

_Don't think about bad things… only good…_ Sully's words of reassurance from three years before chimed in her mind. Good things… _This is the little one we've been praying for, for more than a year… In a few hours, we'll be holding our baby in our arms…_ Everything had turned out all right with Katie, despite a few problems during the pregnancy and the appalling circumstances of her delivery. With this one, nothing seriously wrong had happened, Michaela realized in awe: no spotting, no false labor… except for a few mild episodes of nausea and dizziness, and in spite of her anxiety, first over Sully's and her estrangement then, soon after, because of what happened to Thomas, her pregnancy had run its course in incredibly smooth fashion.

_You never know…_ The faces of some of her former expectant patients flashed before her eyes: mothers-to-be who had gone through heavenly pregnancies only to have their felicity cut short, shattered, by the birth of a drastically ill, or worse, stillborn child, sometimes losing their own lives in the process. She suddenly remembered Ginny Baker, exhausted but hopeful, telling her: "Clayton and me ain't quittin'. We're gonna have our baby." Now the young woman was the elated mother of twins, and Michaela had seen for herself that both babies were happy and thriving.

Drawing from Ginny's exemplary courage and optimism the fortitude she would need to bear the long hours of pain and uncertainty ahead, Michaela resolutely returned to her room, pausing mid-way in the stairs to withstand another contraction. Instinctively she sensed that this labor would be much shorter than with Katie: the first two contractions were barely ten minutes apart, and with her water already broken… It would be wiser, not to mention safer, to stay home and send Sully to fetch Philip or Mortimer, than to try and make it to the Clinic. As silently as she could, as to not wake the children, she reached the master bedroom, circled the bed, lit the lamp and shook her slumbering husband's shoulder.

"Sully…? Sully, wake up!" she whispered near his ear.

"Mmmh… What is it…?"

She allowed him to yawn and stretch, as he sat up, before she blurted out: "It's time."

It took but a second to Sully to spring out of bed and put on his buckskins.

"All right, let's get ya to the Clinic. Get dressed and wake Brian up while I hitch up the wagon," he enjoined her, his voice laced with panic.

"Sully, no… it's too late."

That stopped him short. "What d'ya mean, too late?"

"My water just broke a few minutes ago…"

"We can make it, I know we can…"

"Sully, listen to me," she cut him off. "Remember what I told you when Katie was born? Labor is usually accelerated once the membranes rupture, plus…"

"…there's an increased risk of infection," he recited. "Yeah, I remembered…"

"You go and bring back the first doctor you find…"

"No way I'm leavin' ya alone here!"

"But…"

"No buts, Brian will go, I'm stayin' with ya."

"Sully, please, don't…"

It was too late: Sully was already in the corridor, knocking at Brian's door. Seconds later, she heard the two men racing down the stairs, neither one caring that they might wake Katie, which, in fact, they did: the little girl started wailing and calling to her parents. Praying that a contraction, at least not a strong one, would not occur during the next few minutes, Michaela waddled to her daughter's room. Katie was sitting up on her bed, rubbing her eyes with both fists. Downstairs, the door banged shut, startling the pair.

"Mama," Katie whined when she registered her mother's presence at her side.

"Ssh, Sweetheart, it's all right… Ssh…," Michaela crooned as she pushed gently Katie back down. "Go back to sleep, Mama's here…"

Within minutes, Katie was back to the land of dreams, lulled by her mother's soft voice and the warm stroke of the maternal hand on her hair, blissfully unaware that Michaela's other hand was clutching forcefully at the coverlet as another contraction hit.

Michaela quietly left the child's bedside, while she could still move around. On the threshold, she almost collided with Sully, who was carrying a basin half full of water.

"Watcha doin' outta bed?" he hissed reproachfully.

"Your daughter was awake and crying, thanks to the racket Brian and you made," she fired back in a harsh whisper. Sully looked down, suitably contrite. They re-entered their bedroom; Sully assisted her back into bed while she went on with her diatribe:

"… And what did you have to wake up Brian for? You could have let him sleep…"

"Yeah, and what if I couldn't find anybody in time? Ya woulda stayed here all alone with the kids…? At least I can help ya if the doc can't make it. _We_ can do it together, like we did with Katie, right?"

She merely nodded to his rhetorical question, too overcome by her emotions to find her voice. Satisfied that he had made his point, he went downstairs again to get her medical bag and some more towels.

Alone with her thoughts and the still mild, intermittent pains, she reflected on the circumstances of the impending birth of her second child. If she was honest with herself, she would have to admit that she was actually glad to stay at the homestead: the Clinic might offer many amenities, yet she would never trade them for the comfort and security of her home. She only had a small regret: the baby would not be born on the bed where he had been conceived… She flushed at the fleeting memory.

Sully came back at that moment.

"You all right? Too hot?"

"No. I'm fine, Sully."

"Ya sure? You're all red in the face, like when…" he stopped in mid-sentence as she burst into laughter and blushed more furiously than ever. "What? What's so funny?"

Michaela again could not find her voice she was laughing so hard at the silliness of it all, and at herself. Imagine that: one minute she was angry, the next tearful, and the last, she was giggling hysterically. And Sully's flabbergasted expression did little to help. Finally he sat next to her on the bed and nudged her gently with his elbow. "Tell me," he besought.

She hesitated, embarrassed. "It's silly, really…"

"Tell me," he insisted.

She bit her lip, eyes downcast. "I was… thinking…"

"Yeah… and…?"

"Never mind, Sully… forget it…"

"Can't forget somethin' I don't know of," he pointed out shrewdly.

"Fine," she relented. "I was thinking that our baby isn't going to be b… Ouch!" She doubled over as a strong contraction hit and stole her breath. Teeth gritted and sweat breaking at her hairline, she wondered how she would manage to remain quiet when the pangs would get closer and more strenuous. Had Katie been older, she could have understood why her mother cried out, but she still was too little.

"Sully…"

"You all right?"

"Yes… If Katie wakes… wakes up again," she panted, "will you go to her… reassure her?"

"Sure, but…" He frowned. "Are they that painful already?"

"It's bearable for now," she assured him.

"If ya need to yell, don't hold back, I'll explain to Kates that she don't gotta be afraid."

"Good… thank you."

He placed a gentle kiss on her moist temple. "What were ya gonna tell me?" he asked, reminding her of her previous somewhat brazen thoughts. She lowered her eyes and bit her lip.

"Well, as much as I'm glad to be home rather that in the middle of nowhere…" They both chuckled softly. "There's a small part of me that regrets…"

Sully misinterpreted her hesitation: "Don't tell me ya'd want to be under a tree again!"

Seeing his bewildered expression, she shook her head. "That's not what I meant, Sully," she sniggered dryly. "I just thought that it would have been… fitting, somehow, for our baby to be born at the Clinic…"

"In _our_ room, ya mean?" he clarified, eyes twinkling mischievously.

"Yes, in _that_ room, on _that _bed," she amended, feeling the heat returning to her cheeks.

Sully ducked his head to kiss her fully on the lips.

"You're right, it woulda been fittin', like things woulda come full circle, somehow… but it doesn't really matter, does it? All I care 'bout is knowin' you're safe, that the kids are safe, too."

"That's all I care about, too, Sully: for our family to be safe, and happy." She leaned toward him to return his kiss, but stopped midway as she felt her belly hardening under her palm. _So soon…_ she could not believe how quickly the contractions were getting closer to each other, and longer. She let out a few short breaths through pursed lips, having found that it helped her bear the pain, but soon it got too much and an involuntary cry escaped her.

Sully looked on helplessly, knowing better than to touch her when she was hurting like that. Through her squinted eyelids, she could see worry warring with anticipation on his face. When the contraction subsided and she could get her breath back, she reached for his hand. It felt so good to have him with her, and she needed him to know that.

"Thank you for being here with me."

He brought her hand to his mouth, kissing softly the knuckles. "No other place I'd rather be, you know that."

"I know. I can't tell you how glad I am that you're here for the birth of our baby… You see, until you helped me deliver Katie, I had pictured you waiting outside the Clinic, like all fathers-to-be, and now I realize that I've never liked this prospect one bit, that deep down, I've always wanted you by my side."

"Really?" he murmured, moved.

"Really. I can't imagine you not being present for our children's coming into the world, being the one to hold our babies first before putting them in my arms. Truth is, even if Philip, or Mortimer, can't be here on time, I feel safe knowing that you'll be here."

Sully's features were naked with emotion as he pressed his forehead to hers. "Nothin' could keep me away from you," he breathed. Anxiety crept back into his eyes as he inquired softly: "Ya really think the doc won't make it?"

Understanding that, although he was willing to deliver their child on his own, he would feel much better if a doctor was around in case something might go wrong, Michaela squeezed his hand comfortingly.

"No, but we must be prepared, just in case. This labor is progressing quite rapidly, more than it was for Katie."

"It is?"

Michaela opened her mouth to answer but the only sound that came forth was a strangled cry, followed by a much shriller one, and her grip onto Sully's hand tightened frenetically. Pain felt like huge, dark waves in the tempest that was assaulting her body, swelling higher to crush her with increasing force at each new contraction. Yet she could not stop Nature from taking its course. She could only accept to be nothing but a simple creature confronted to the age-old task of bringing forth a new little being…

Labor was indeed progressing with unsettling alacrity. Sully spent the next hour rushing back and forth between Katie's room and theirs. Michaela could no longer refrain from screaming, which scared the little girl to no end. Sully was getting more agitated by the minute, trying to comfort both his wife and daughter. Michaela ended up trying to muffle her cries into a pillow. When she pulled it away from her face to catch her breath, she found herself alone, listening to the faint sounds of Katie's sobs and Sully's voice gently repeating her that she didn't need to be afraid, that soon she would meet her new brother or sister and that her mother was yelling because she was working very hard to help the baby get born…

Tears collected at the corners of Michaela's eyes and ran down her temples: she could have never found a better father for her children, nor a better man to share her life with. Again she found herself thinking of the Tanners, of the way their family seemed to be falling completely apart, and now she knew with absolute certainty that if anything were to happen to their child, Sully would never, ever, turn his back to their family. That thought was enough to prompt her earlier fears to resurface: what would _she_ do, how would _she_ cope? How could they bear to watch their own flesh and blood suffer…?

When Sully came back, she was still quietly weeping. She had rolled onto her side and curled into fetal position, the posture providing some relief for the time being. As soon as he noticed her tear-stained cheeks, he knelt by her bedside, a worried frown marring his features.

"I wish ya didn't have to hurt so much," he murmured as he brushed back the damp locks that clung to her forehead. Although he had misinterpreted the reason behind her tears, his tender concern was enough to make her cry harder. Beyond speech, she fiercely clasped the hand he had buried in her hair, eyes closed tight and breathing reduced to a few shallow pants. The pain was so excruciating that she did not even have the strength to make a sound. When it let up, she opened her eyes to find Sully's face inches from hers.

"Sul-ll-l-y," she whimpered.

"Ssh, you're doin' great… Hang on, Michaela…"

She burst into tears.

"Ya can do this…"

"Sully!"

"Tell me what I can do to help ya…"

She knew that if she was to articulate her anguish, Sully would understand and comfort her, but that was just it, she could not find the words. She could only stare with shimmering eyes at him; he who was her most precious treasure besides her children, he who had been her strength ever since they had met…

"Don't be scared," he crooned soothingly, although he had trouble to hide his own panic. The realization that he was just as scared as she was hit her full force in time with yet another contraction. Her whimper grew into a full-fledged shriek; fat beads of perspiration, blended with her hot tears, were rolling down her skin as if her entire body was shedding tears of pain from every pore… A cool cloth wiped up her face, neck and shoulders in light circling massages, while his voice, velvet-soft but assertive, pervaded the shroud of her torment: "I know you are, an' I am, too," he was saying, "just don't forget we're in this together. Remember, what happens to ya, happens to me, huh…?"

"You… You're scared?" she croaked.

"'Bout as much as I was when ya were havin' Katie. Can't help but think of all that might go wrong, for ya, or the baby. Always in the back of my mind, I reckon. And I know it's been on yours, too, 'cause of what happened to the Tanner baby…"

He knew; he had sensed it somehow. Was it their uncanny, yet undeniable bond that had enabled him to read her mind once again? Was it because he knew her so well that he had guessed where her insecurities lay?

"… Just like ya know we can't let fear control us," he went on, summoning the traumatic memory of when she had been shot. His words struck a chord in her, he was right, she could not let herself wallow in dread and self-questioning any longer.

"That ain't good for you, ain't good for the baby," he murmured, completing her thoughts.

She nodded, her resolve strengthening, and as the burden that was pressing down on her soul lifted a little, the lingering tension that remained even between the contractions lessened, to the point that the next pang felt somehow less painful, though the pressure in her lower back was getting more pronounced. Her experience as a physician told her that it was due to the way the baby was presenting. And she knew what she could do about this…

"Sully?" she called with as much poise as she could muster.

"What?"

"Please bring me my bag, and help me sit up."

Soon the black leather bag sat reassuringly by her side, and she was propped up against the headboard, surrounded by several pillows. There was a question in Sully's eyes, one she could identify very clearly.

"The baby's coming out in a way that makes my back hurts more," she explained, assuming her professional attitude in an attempt to alleviate his trepidation, and maybe her own. His eyebrows flew upward as his worry grew into sheer dismay.

"What d'ya mean? You need an operation?"

"N…no, I don't think so, but sometimes the back of the baby's head presses on the mother's sacral nerves, causing worse pain than when the baby comes face downward…" She saw Sully blink uncomfortably, trying to grasp what she was saying.

"I wish Philip was here, he'd give you somethin' for the pain…"

"He wouldn't, Sully. Unless he had to put me under to perform a Caesarian, it's far too dangerous to give drugs to a woman during birth. It would make me confused, I wouldn't be able to push properly when I'd need to…"

"But… there gotta be somethin' I can do to help ya, ain't it?"

"You'll have to help me stay as calm and focused as possible."

"Sure…"

"We can do it, Sully…"

"… And we w… Ouch!"

Another contraction hit, and Michaela squeezed her husband hand so hard that he could help crying out, more out of surprise than actual pain. He glanced in disbelief at the small, pale, fragile-looking fingers intertwined with his: so much strength in such a tiny hand…

"Strong one, uh?"

Michaela nodded fiercely, unable to answer verbally she was breathing so hard to withstand the pain.

Another hour passed, during which Sully tried his best to alleviate his wife's suffering, before Brian finally came back with Philip.

The physician barely paused to take off his coat and say hello, that he already was scrubbing energetically his hands.

"It's all right Sully, I'll take it from here. Why won't you go downstairs and get us some coffee?"

"No!" Michaela and Sully exclaimed in unison.

"All right, all right," chuckled Philip.

"I'll fetch the coffee, Doc Munroe," said Brian sleepily, who still stood in the doorway.

"Thank you Brian, that'll be most welcome"

Philip bent over his patient, rearranging the sheet so that only he could see and follow the stages of the delivery.

"Water broke yet?"

"Yeah, a little 'fore three…"

"How far apart are the contractions?"

As if on cue, another one occurred right at that moment. Michaela gasped and moaned pitifully. The pain was almost unbearable, and barely left her enough time now between each contraction to recover.

"Two minutes, maybe less, I dunno, they keep getting closer…" Sully's voice seemed to be coming from far away. She was starting to feel light-headed, so the rest of the exchange between the two men was lost to her. She was barely aware of Philip's careful examination, until a cool compress was pressed on her brow and cheeks. Sully's eyes were a few inches from hers. She relaxed a little, then she focused again on Philip.

"You're fully dilated, now," he said.

"I guess I am, " Michaela gasped, "I've been feeling the need to push during the… the few last c…contractions".

"All right, so next contraction…"

"I know, " she interrupted. "Philip, I think it's back labor, the pain…"

"Oh dear, well the best is to try to make it quick, uh?"

Michaela nodded wordlessly again, tears starting to flow anew as an overwhelmingly painful contraction struck, almost blotting the natural urge to push. Squeezing Sully's hand impossibly further, she mustered as much strength as she could and bore down. She really felt like someone had stabbed her in her lower back and was moving a sharp, large knife around. It was so hard to push when she had to fight off so much pain, to maintain her focus on what she was supposed to, when tiny black spots were dancing before her eyes. Only Sully's hand, his hushed words of encouragement kept her from submitting to her need to escape into unconsciousness.

Michaela managed to push the baby enough for the top of its head to finally appear, but she was quickly losing her strength and resolve, and she was starting to panic that she wouldn't be able to hold out much longer.

Philip seemed to be aware that his patient was about to give out.

"You were right, the baby's definitely facing outwards. We could try lo let it come out at its own pace, but… I think maybe I could…?"

"An episiotomy?" breathed Michaela, eyes closed.

"Yes, it would speed things up, and spare you unnecessary pain."

Sully was amazed. Here was his wife, in the throes of a difficult delivery, half knocked out by the pain, and yet her instinct as a doctor was still as sharp as ever so she had guessed immediately what was on Philip's mind. But Michaela, surprisingly, shook her head, before letting out an ear-splinting screech. She was hurting so much that she couldn't push efficiently, and the baby's head didn't move at all. When the contraction relented at last, she squeaked, between sobs:

"Do it, please… I-I can't do it anymore, pl-please." She hadn't seen that Philip had anticipated her change or heart and prepared the scissors. And she didn't even feel when he cut into the taut flesh.

Sully was glad he couldn't see what was going on, sitting near his wife's head. He didn't like the sound of that episo-thing one bit, even though he trusted Philip as much as Michaela did. He concentrated on sponging Michaela's brow, and murmuring comforting words to her. She had asked him to keep her calm and focused, and that was what he was going to do.

"I know you're exhausted, Michaela, but if you can just hold out a little longer… a few good pushes should do the trick," said Philip encouragingly.

"Ya hear? Ya can do it, Michaela, I know you can."

She nodded ever so slightly. Of course she could do it. She had to. And she wanted to see her baby. She was a few contractions away from meeting her new son or daughter. When she felt her belly tightening for the next one, she took in as much air as she could. The pressure in her lower back was torturing her, but she forged ahead, pushing long and hard, twice. And suddenly, the pressure all but disappeared, only to be replaced by an unsettling numbness, just as Philip commented: "You did wonderfully, the head's out!"

"Hear that? The head's out, it's almost over."

The next contraction was already upon her, and she pushed again, with a raspy, drawn-out groan, and she could picture the baby slipping out into the doctor's hand as she felt it leave her body with a kind of slurping sound.

The newborn gurgled as Philip cut the cord and cleaned its nose and mouth, then screamed heartily, as if protesting at being torn from the warm security of its mother's womb. Philip raised the red, squirming baby from behind the screen of the sheet, for the new parents to see:

"Michaela, Sully, meet your son."

Michaela burst into tears again as Sully took the precious bundle from the doctor to place it in it's mother's arm. Joy, relief and triumph exploded within her. Too overcome to speak, she could only look rapturously at her son who soon quieted. She fingered his small hands and feet tenderly, detailing his perfection. Her prayers had been answered, her baby was healthy, safe and sound in their arms, and she would do anything to ensure that no harm would come to him if she could help it. She remembered feeling that deep, primeval need to protect her child with Katie, but it seemed to have grown threefold with her son's birth.

"Are you looking for an eleventh toe, Michaela?" teased Philip as he looked up from the instruments he had just put back in his bag.

She chuckled softly, too elated not to take Philip's question good-naturedly.

"So, how are you going to name this big boy?"

"Joseph William."

Philip nodded appreciatively. "A good, strong name, for a good, strong boy," he commented.

"We hope so," murmured Michaela, still examining the newborn lovingly. The baby was blinking sleepily, his eyes two black, shimmering agates. He did not seem to care the least that he was still bloody and slimy, for he was securely held by warm, loving arms, his mother's arms, close to her heart, which beat had lulled and sustained him for nine months. He closed his eyes calmly, blissfully unaware that the exhausting experience he had just lived was just the beginning of a long and eventful life.

Michaela sighed contentedly. Right now, all was well in her little corner of the world, and she was really looking forward to raising her children with Sully by her side. And her career was far from being over, so she would probably come across other families like the Tanners. She could only hope that she would be able to help them better.


	10. Epilogue

**EPILOGUE**

Rose was silent, absorbing all that her grandmother had told her. A whirlwind of questions were rushing through her mind...

Meanwhile, Michaela could sense that Rose's speechlessness was hiding her disquiet. The girl's jaw was clenched tightly, as if she was trying to stop herself from screaming. But she knew she had to let Rose deal with her emotions without interfering, she could only offer advice or solace if asked.

Finally, Rose spoke up.

"What became of the Tanners?"

Michaela sighed. "When I came back to work, a few weeks later, I learned from Jake that the Tanners had left without saying goodbye to anyone, not even to Teresa who had gone almost everyday to their farm to ensure they were coping. One morning, she came back saying that the farm was empty. The cows, the pig, the horses... were nowhere to be seen, the chairs on the porch were gone, and the door and windows were boarded up. We could only assume that they moved to some other place to escape the memories and star over... and hope that they would be fine, wherever they were."

"Did you came across other children with this kind of disease, after that?"

"Yes, and every time, I did my best to convince the parents that with careful care and guidance, their child would have an almost normal life. One of them actually learned his letters. His parents had tried to provided their son as normal a life as he could have, withstanding proudly the taunts, pointing fingers, snide remarks. He was eventually accepted in school, but unfortunately he died during the summer.

"Do they ever become adults? Or are they all condemned to die so young?"

Michaela studied her granddaughter: there was something in the way she was asking questions, something familiar. And she suddenly saw herself as a teenager, plaguing her father with unending questions about medicine, treatments, procedures. Rose was mirroring exactly her grandmother's behavior, as well as Colleen's and Josef's inquisitiveness, when they had started assisting Michaela at the clinic. Would Rose follow in their footsteps and enter the medical profession too? Would she become an outstanding scientist like Marie Curie?...

Michaela could not help but smiling to herself. Of course, nothing would make her prouder than knowing Rose would become a physician too. But she should not get ahead of herself. She had to remember that her granddaughter was also showing great abilities in arts and in writing, very much like her uncle Brian. Whatever choice Rose would make for her future, Michaela would give her complete support.

As if reading her grandmother's thoughts, Rose said:

"You know, Grandma, I've been thinking a lot, lately... About what I'm gonna do, once I graduate. Soon, I'll have to send appliances for college. I've considered applying here, but that means not pursuing a medical career..."

There. Rose said it. So she was considering... _No surprise here_, would have said Sully.

"What about Denver?"

"What about you? If I go, who will take care of you? Alice and Mike are too young."

Michaela shook her head

"Rosie, Sweetheart, listen to me. I'm old, my life will soon be over... And don't tell me not to say that, you know I'm right," she interjected when she saw Rose open her mouth to protest. "Your life is just beginning, you have so many gifts to share, so many talents. Don't waste them for my stake. When I'm no longer able to stay on my own, well maybe I'll move in with your Aunt Katie."

"Why not with us? Dad would be at hand for your treatments."

"I don't think Diana would appreciate my presence," Michaela remarked quietly, but pointedly. Rose looked down: her grandmother was right, once again.

"Besides, you make it sound like I'm much trouble to look after," Michaela added with a rare touch of irony.

At this Rose laughed heartily.

"That's what Grandpa used to say about you, that someone had to keep you out of trouble, and that it was a tough job!"

At that moment, Michaela felt her husband's presence, right next to her. No, take that back, all around her, inside and out. He was there, smiling so proudly, so contentedly that, for a moment, she felt young again, her heart singing in tune with his. And for the first time in months, she laughed good and hard, openly. It felt wonderful.

Finally, she became serious again and asked:

"So you will apply to medical colleges?"

Rose did not answer right away, pondering her options. She was feeling the strong pull of the prospect of a career dedicated to help others, but she still wasn't sure she could become as great a physician as her father and her grandmother. That she would be able to find the right balance between the family life she craved for and a practice for which she'll have to fight hard, being a woman. She knew her grandmother would be thrilled to see her on her way to follow the "tradition", yet she could not bear imagining her grandmother's disappointment if she failed. So she refrained from giving any definitive answer.

"... I'll think about it."

**The End**


End file.
